What If Why Not?
by Madripoor Rose
Summary: A series of stories set in the AU What If Magneto And Professor X Had Formed The X Men Together?
1. Ascension

ASCENSION

BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

Disclaimer: Marvel Entertainment owns everything, this is a work of fanfic, no copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: A Kitty's eye view of the events of What If Magneto And Professor Xavier Founded The X Men Together, collected in the trade paperback What If Why Not?

Good Shepherd Clinic

Raven's Rock Vermont

Charles Xavier, Founder & Director

"Professor X... Here's your new computer. Made it all by myself!"

I scribbled the note on a memo pad that was on his desk after I finished setting up the new computer. There was a lot of stuff on the desk, and it took me a minute to find pen and paper. I wasn't snooping. Not exactly.

But if he's gonna leave a big file marked University of Chicago Student Evaluation: Katherine Pryde, stamped ON PROBATION in big ugly red letters lying around, I'm agonna look at it. It's like, literally got my name on it. Yuck. The usual stuff. I'm missing too many classes while I'm helping save the world.

There was also other neat stuff, like a proof copy of Understanding Magnetism by Erik Lehnsherr and Gabrielle Haller-Lehnsherr, a Report to the President on Strategic Implications of Hyper-Accelerated Evolution of the Human Genome, with all kinds of interesting little Post-It notes attached to the cover. I spent a minute looking at it and wondering if there was a color code or if it was just package potluck.

Mutant Threat, What To Do About Genosha, and Where's Wolverine were on pink Post-Its. Global Mutant Conspiracy? and Purity were on yellow Post-Its and Alice Tremaine and Trask were on green Post-Its.

His dayplanner was open, too. Today. Monday, he had the weekly meeting and a new patient consultation, Jean Grey. I was supposed to remind him before the transport ambulance was due, so he'd have time to greet the new doc.

The schedule was packed pretty solid. Meetings with C.C. for his new book, White House Security Council briefing, lunch with Reed Richards, Berlin Nightcrawler.

That one made me blink.

The Prof could definitely use a vacation, but if he wants to go fishing, don't we have bait shops in the good ol' US of A?

And the last entry. Saturday: Katherine. Discuss school. Great. I get him when he's all jetlagged and cranky.

I added a little 'Hey!' and frowny-face to that entry, initialed it, and went back to my note.

"Terabyte hard drive, quantum increase in clock speed, and you can carry it in your pocket! Last licks---Can Doug and I take over the universe?"

A shifting of weight on my shoulders and a set of talons digging in a little as Lockheed leaned down to read over my shoulder and chirrup at me made me add, "And Lockheed needs fresh kibble."

I glanced at the clock and then did a doubletake. It was ten minutes after I was supposed to remind Prof X about the newbie, so he'd have time to clean up and change.

"Oh crap! The time! Dragon, why didn't you say something?" I jumped to my feet and hurried out into the hall. Lockheed still clinging to my back and coming along for the ride. "How could you let me just sit there? Sage," I called out, spotting Her Spookiness at the end of the hallway. "Sage, where's the Professor?"

"In the gym. Meeting with the Gang of Four." Sage looked amused as I started to sink through the floor, but Sage always looks like life is a joke and only she knows the punchline.

"Thanks," I called out as I dropped.

"Kitty, what about your..." I heard her call back.

"Homework? I'll do it later," I muttered, running on.

The Gang of Four. Weekly meeting with Alexei Vazhin (Federal Security Bureau), Val Cooper (Presidential Assistant For National Security Affairs), Nick Fury (National Security Council), and Brigadier Alysande Stuart (Weird Happenings Organization).

They were meeting in the hologym because Vazhin was the only one who was really physically here. The rest were holo-conferencing from their own offices in New York and DC.

And the main reason Vazhin comes in person is for a little one on one. Most global power brokers play golf. The Prof is a B-ball fiend. And this is the only thinktank in the world where international policy is hammered out between slam-dunks.

Lockheed was trying to climb on top of my head as I entered the gym through the wall. I could feel hairpins spring loose as he tugged.

As I expected, the hologym was set up as a basketball court, and the Professor and Vazhin were scuffling over the ball just under the net. The ghostly holographic images of the rest of the meeting were standing on the sidelines, next to the bench and...

...Hello Nurse!

There was a hottie here live and in person too. Coal black hair so wavy it just begged for fingers to run through it. Light blue eyes that widened slightly as they met mine, and returned my gaze with interest. Broad chest, biceps filling out the sleeves of a light blue Polo shirt, gorgeous as a Greek god.

"Professor! The new patient's here," I called out, and felt my wig slip backward off my scalp. "Dragon, whatever you're doing, stop!" I added in a hiss, not wanting to look dorky in front of Tall, Dark, and Handsome.

The reaction was not what I was expecting. Vazhin coughed and looked away, and Professor Xavier put his hand over his eyes. "Katherine," and he was using his patient voice, trying not to laugh. "Remember our talks about the importance of concentrating while using your powers?"

He was talking to me like he did when I was a kid and first came here. "Absolutely," I started to ask why he wanted to go over the basics of power practice when he should be wrapping up the meeting and hitting the showers, when I noticed something.

How cold the floor was under my bare feet.

Bare feet?

I gulped, and looked down, then yelped, covering my breasts with one arm, hugging myself, and putting my other hand in front of my crotch.

Bare everything.

I must of left my clothing on the other side of one of those walls I'd phased through.

"Why didn't somebody TELL me?" I wailed, and threw myself backward through the wall.

Before I made it through, I heard Vazhin ask, "Does this happen often?" and the Prof reply, "A lot less than it used to, thank heaven." And then the hunk said, "Pity."

Great. Four of the most powerful people in the country just saw me naked. It's hard enough trying to be taken seriously, since I'm only seventeen. Eighteen in three months. And I'm cute.

The cute doesn't help.

I've tried every intimidation technique Wolvie can teach me and people still want to pat me on the head.

Right now all I wanted to do was get to my room and get dressed before anyone else saw me. Oh, and hide under my bed for a million years. That's probably how long it will take before I stop blushing.

But that's the sort of thing a ditzy teenager would do on a bad sitcom.

The responsible adult thing to do would be to get dressed, find my clothes and put them away, and then go downstairs and make myself generally available to help with the patient transfer...and pretend like hell the whole accidental flashing of the briefing thing never happened.

And, okay, that's kinda a bad sitcom plot too, but it's all I got.

So I ducked into my bedroom and got dressed. Panties, socks, black sports bra, black jeans, hiking boots, and a short sleeved gray hoodie. Ran a brush through my short shaggy-cut mouse brown hair.

There.

Presentable enough.

Lockheed had flapped off somewhere, probably to watch the new arrivals. He's intelligent and more than that, I think he's sentient, not just smart for a dumb animal.

He is an alien after all.

And he's just a baby alien dragon, so who knows what he'll be like when he grows up?

Too bad he's mindblind so Prof X can't tell just how smart he is, but Lockheed's pretty smart, he always knows what's going on. Even if he's just hoping that the new people will have shiny things he can steal, or might feed him.

I backtracked, and found my clothes in the hall outside the Professor's office.

Doc Martins, pleated plaid miniskirt, purple knee-highs with holes, white oxford shirt, red tie, spiked leather cuff bracelet, and my backpack and blazer.

With the blue wig, it was my Punk Prep look.

Individuation's a damn awkward stage, ain't it?

I haven't settled on a fashion statement or personal style yet. I haven't really had the best role models for all that girly junk.

There's Sage. Just...ew. Bodysuit, cloak and shades.

Professor Haller is elegant, but the twinset and pearls thing just isn't me, that I do know.

And Mystique...well. She just changes herself for the same effect I get with a wardrobe of theme outfits and a rainbow of pastel wigs.

Mysti's cool, though. For my fourteenth birthday she bought out a Sephora, and one of those Makeup Tips Of The Stars magazines, and we spent the afternoon playing with lip gloss and glitter nail polish and gunk. She didn't know how to use any of it either, she always just mimicked it.

She wouldn't let me try the eyelash curler though. She did, cursed in German for fifteen minutes, and then threw it out. She said her dad would have had one in his dungeon, if they'd been invented yet.

I hauled my stuff back to my room and put 'em away, then swung back to the now thankfully deserted gym for my blue wig, and put that away too.

Just my luck, when I came back down to the foyer, Colonel Vazhin was still there with the hunkski. I thought about hiding in the corner, but something drew me over, and I suddenly remembered in the gym, he'd LOOKED, but then looked up to meet my eyes. Looked, but not leered. I could work with that. And like they say, curiosity killed the Kitty. I wanted to know if that meant he was gay or had good manners.

I was kinda hoping for good manners. Tall, dark, and handsome all right. As I walked over I noticed that the top of my head barely reached his bicep. No wonder Vazhin had brought him along for basketball.

He was smiling at me a little.

The three of us were silent as the attendants rolled the gurney with the thin pale figure of a beautiful redhead past us to the elevator, and Professor Xavier came in with another guy. Doctor McCoy, I presume.

He was tall, dark, and kinda cute too, but too old for me. Like thirtysomething old. Unless he's like Logan and Mysti and is way too old for me. Like remembering the Civil War old. Okay, so Logan was only ten at the time, and living a Canadian version of The Secret Garden that went horribly wrong, but still.

McCoy was wearing jeans, a green sweater, and steel-rimmed glasses, and his hair was in this retro-adorkable crewcut.

Professor Xavier introduced us, "Henry McCoy, Katherine Pryde, one of my associates."

He gave me the once-over. "Really?" he asked in a dismissive tone of voice that put my hackles up.

I bared my teeth at him in something that someone who didn't know me very well would assume was a smile. "Child labor. He runs a sweatshop."

"A moment, Charles, please?" Colonel Vazhin took the Professor aside and they spoke briefly. I could hear him say, "I think you'll like my lieutenant, I borrowed him from the Red Room..." before they lowered their voices. Vazhin left.

The Professor announced, "Katherine, Peter Rasputin will be joining us for awhile as liaison with Colonel Vazhin. Once Ms Grey is settled, why don't you give him and Doctor McCoy the nickel tour?"

I looked up at McCoy. "Do they call you Bones?"

"Don't start," he chuckled. "It's Hank. Mr. Rasputin, you're in the military?" Okay, McCoy got a few points back for offering his first name.

Hunkski---Peter Rasputin---smiled slightly. "My boss used to be. Call me Peter."

"Ignore the Katherine. I'm Kitty."

McCoy went off with the Prof to see to his patient, and I found myself alone with Peter.

"Want me to show you around?" I offered.

"No sense in doing so twice. I will wait until the good doctor can join us," he said. Mmm. I could get used to that baritone rumble and the accent. "I was told I am to sleep in the blue guestroom and that my things were being brought there. Perhaps you could show me?"

"Oh sure. You've got a great view of the woods there, the maples are pretty spectacular in the fall. You're just down the hall from me." I led him upstairs to his new bedroom. The blue guestroom got the name from the way it was decorated in shades of blue, with sandy tan and brick red accent colors.

Peter left the door open, so I took that as an invitation, and pointed out the view, and the attached bathroom, like a hotel bellhop. The bed had been replaced with a king in the same dark Mission style. With Peter's height, he'd need it. And a Japanese print of cranes and irises had been swapped out with a landscape in a simple gold frame. I didn't recognize it, and drifted over to look.

Rolling hills leading to mountains, and a long lake. At first I thought it was a new acquisition and had been placed here for the shades of blue in the lake and sky.

And then I noticed that the canvas had been signed P. Rasputin.

"You did this? It's really good."

"A hobby of mine. That is Lake Baikal, in Siberia. I grew up not far," he was looking for something on the desk against the far wall, and when I turned to look at him, I noticed the easel. "I was wondering, if while we await Doctor McCoy, I could persuade you to pose for me."

Oh grrreat.

I glared at him, eyes narrowing. "You aren't talking naked, are you? Because I'm not an exhibitionist. The thing in the gym with the being naked was an accident," I told him in my best Wolverine growl.

He raised his eyebrows. "If I wished a nude study of you, I could likely attempt one from memory," he shot back. "I meant a casual pose, dressed as you are now. I thought we might get to know one another before McCoy joins us, and you seemed interested in my artwork. It was an idle suggestion, and I meant no offense. I could strip for you instead, to even the score, if you like."

I grinned at him. "I think I like you. You're fiesty," I told him. "Okay, where do you want me to pose?"

He picked up a sketchbook and pencil box. "Outside?"

"Yeah. There's a shade garden with benches by the koi pond. Trees and shrubs for background."

"Sounds good."

We headed out, and he asked, "So how long have you worked here?"

"Since I was thirteen. Came in as a patient and sorta never left." I glanced up at him. "So you work for Alexei Vazhin?"

"Yes."

"Guess I can't ask you any questions about that, the answers are all classified, huh?"

He laughed. "Yes."

"You grew up in Siberia near Lake Baikal. Any brothers and sisters? I'm an only child."

"I had one of each. My older brother Mikhail was training to be a cosmonaut when he was killed in an accident. I was ten. Now I have a little sister, Illyana. She's four. I don't get home to see her as often as I'd like."

"I'm sorry. Gee, a spy who gets homesick? There's something you don't see in the Bond movies."

"Not even From Russia With Love," he agreed cheerfully. "How old are you, Kitty? If you've been here since you were thirteen?"

"Seventeen. Almost eighteen. I know, I look younger, darn this babyface. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. Do you have a boyfriend? I ask only in case a jealous brute sees me sketching you and gets the wrong idea."

"You have to admit, 'will you pose for me' sounds like a pickup line, and artists have that reputation. Having a last name like Rasputin can't help either."

"I find that people are more familiar with the evil wizard from the Anastasia cartoon than with Great-grandfather's...excesses."

"Heh. Nope, I don't have a boyfriend. I'm at that awkward age, and girls mature faster any way. I'm a certified Grade-A genius, and guys my age are still kids. The guys old enough to hold an intelligent conversation aren't exactly dateable. For another couple of months at least."

He flirted, "do I qualify to be added to your waiting list?"

I winked at him. "So far you're definitely showing potential."

We were walking down an avenue of oaks, their leafy branches intertwining in a canopy overhead. Thick shrubs and hedges walled off a kind of a little courtyard, with benches overlooking the koi pond. It was still early enough in the spring that the scattered violets and lily of the valley were blooming, scenting the air.

"This is pretty," he agreed.

I never posed for anything but school pictures before. Peter had me sit on the bench shaded by an oak, with the pond behind me. Sitting on my hip, legs crossed at the ankle and leaning on my left hand. He rumpled my hair---see what I mean about everybody wanting to pat me on the head?---and tugged at my open hoodie sweatshirt.

"Adjusting the drape of the cloth," he explained that one, and retreated to the other bench across the path, propped his sketchbook on his knees, and began to draw.

I've always had a problem with sitting still. I like to be doing things. So the novelty wore off posing pretty fast. I spent some time wondering about Peter, and why Vazhin had assigned him as liaison to us. That was a pretty cushy desk job for someone so young and highly trained.

And okay, he's obviously here to spy on us, but it's not like we do anything Vazhin doesn't already know about, more or less.

Bond movies. I amused myself by making up a story out of every bad action flick I've ever seen to explain Peter joining us. He must have just saved the world from some mad scientist supervillian with alien minions. He'd been hurt, badly, almost killed, and just got out of the hospital. And there was a big breasted, pouty lipped spy chick he'd been working with and fell for, who turned out to be a double agent and broke his heart. Her name was Ivana Plei or something like that.

Vazhin, of course, had assigned him to us as light detached duty because he was afraid Peter would try to suicide by field op, and we were somewhere he could recover. And because Alexei was something of a matchmaker at heart, he hoped a certain elfinly pretty, whacky computer genius would teach Peter to laugh again and heal his broken heart.

I swear to God, at the time I honestly thought I was making that up.

Floored me when I found out later that was pretty much what happened.

It was a warm sunny day, and it was kind of nice to sit outside and look at a cute guy for a while. Feeling the warmth of the sunlight, a breeze ruffling my hair, the cool solid stone of the bench under me. I think I was starting to get the point of that meditation junk Logan does.

"I've got it roughed in, you can stretch," he said presently, so I got up and went around to look over his shoulder. You could tell it was a thin girl sitting on a bench under a tree, but it didn't look much like me. He hadn't really done any detail work yet, but it was still way better than the stick figures I can draw.

He used the edge of his thumb to smear some charcoal lines on the tree trunk, and suddenly it looked like the bark, exactly down to the scars from Wolverine's claws.

"Neat," I told him. He smiled up at me, kind of a shy smile, and then pointed at the bench with his charcoal pencil.

"Thank you. Position, please."

I sat back down and tried to get my arm and elbow and legs back the way they'd been. But I barely got settled when I felt a mindtouch, the Professor looking for me. I didn't say anything.

A few minutes later, Doctor McCoy came ambling down the path, his hands in his pockets.

"Ready for your tour, Doc?" I called out, and Peter packed up his art supplies.

"I should be with my patient," McCoy grumbled guiltily.

I stood up and gave him a little punch to the shoulder to snap him out of it. "Trust the Prof, he knows what he's doing."

McCoy just shook his head. "My colleagues think I'm nuts for bringing her here. They consider your Prof a kook."

"Yeah, well, what do they know?" I took his arm and gave it a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Do any of them have an explanation for Ms. Grey's coma? Or the telekinetic activity that just started? You've seen the working areas of the clinic, and this is the garden."

Peter came up, flanking me on the other side as we walked back to the house. "The house is a lot bigger than it looks. Everybody in the staff has their own room," I started as I led them into the kitchen.

"He called you an 'associate?"

"I'm a gearhead. I build things. Audio and video. Computers. Stuff like that. What I don't do is cook."

"Actually, I'm a great cook," Peter was investigating the gourmet-grade appliances with approval.

"Excellent!" They'd seen the living room, and the offices were off-limits, so I took them around to the pool annex, with the huge skylights. "Pool's up here, but the main gym's down Below."

One of the cargo/vehicle elevators was back here, so I took them Down through that.

McCoy gasped, "what the devil is this?"

I grinned. "Totally cool, is what it is." I took 'em down level by level, showing off what could be seen through open elevator doors. The library and vehicle storage were the most impressive floors. "The house is actually a front," I explained, "for the bunker complex underneath. It was built during the Cold War as a remote National Command Center...literally a backup White House...in case of your basic global thermonuclear holocaust. We got labs for every conceivable discipline, we got one of the best libraries in the world, access to the latest technotoys. There's a garage for cars and a hanger for aircraft, including a couple that are beyond the state of the art."

I had to show them the datawomb next, even though Sage usually hangs out there. The round room lined with screens with a swivel chair in the center is just too cool to miss.

"From here we can tap into any datanet, and everybody's satellites. Totally wicked what's available as government surplus on the 'Net. This is where we do most of our work."

McCoy's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Which is what, exactly?"

"Mainly, we're a thinktank."

He turned to Peter. "Mr Rasputin, are you an associate too?"

"I'm here on loan."

"I saw you sketching. Are you an artist?"

Peter smiled. "Actually, I'm a secret agent."

McCoy's jaw dropped.

And that was when Sage slinked in to join us.

"Doctor McCoy. I'm Sage." She peeled off a glove and offered her hand.

Still out of his depth, McCoy blurted, "Are you a spy too?"

"Professor Xavier's personal assistant."

McCoy took her hand, stammering, "This isn't at all what I expected. It's all so fantastic. I'm not sure why you're showing it to me."

Sage licked one of her fingertips after shaking his hand. "Charles has an...instinct about people. And he's rarely wrong. Fascinating. I have to process some data. I look forward very much to our next meeting."

And she walked out.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

McCoy looked like someone had just hit him across the forehead with a two by four.

"Is it just me or is Sage...!"

"No way. Sage totally creeps out everyone. I think she likes you, you sexy beast," I teased him.

If I told him Sage can read DNA by tasting it, and only needs a tiny sample of shed skin cells to do so, so if he was a latent mutant she'd just seen what he'd probably mutate into, he'd run screaming from the house.

"My day is made," he muttered.

I was gonna take them to the hologym next. Peter had already seen it set up as a basketball court, but it can do so many other things. If you're a trekkie, think holodeck.

KATHERINE. WE'RE UNDER ATTACK. LARGE AUTOMATONS COMPOSED OF PLASTICS AND CERAMICS. HURRY.

McCoy brought his hands up to his temples. "I just heard...Xavier's voice...inside my head."

"The Clinic's under attack! You guys stay here, you'll be totally safe," I hoped. I started to shortcut through the nearest wall.

"Holy Mary!" Poor Hank. He hadn't seen me phase before, and doesn't really seem to react well to surprises.

"Kitty, wait! This is what I'm trained to do. Take me with you." Peter grabbed my hand.

I took him to the nearest armory, grabbed a bag and started filling it with grenades, glancing up at him. "Want a railgun?"

"Nyet. So many weapons for a thinktank."

I met her gaze, and wondered how much of this Vazhin knew. "Xavier was a Boy Scout, y'know, Be Prepared. Lehnsherr and Haller are both survivors of the camps, and Erik lost a wife and child to antimutant rioting after the war, he's kinda invested in the right to bear arms." He got it, I could see it in his eyes. I nodded once. "And we got hostiles Topside, so it's a good thing." And we boogied.

Coming through the outside wall was a doozy. I never tried to phase anything as big as Peter through the embedded reinforcement. It...tingled...but we made it okay.

"What a trip, Kitty, that was so incredible---! Bozhe moi, what in Holy Peter's name are they?"

They were about twenty-foot tall purple flying Lego-man looking robots from hell, and they were destroying the house.

They were destroying my home.

"Giant killer robots, what do they look like?" I yelled, dropping his hand and charging forward. "Whatever it is you do, Petey, don't wait to be asked!" I phased, dove into the robot's foot, and airwalked up, dropping grenades as I went. Came out of the shoulder, yelled "FIRE INNA HOLE!" and jumped, phasing clear of the explosion.

Peter had his shirt off. I felt like applauding. Especially since his body gleamed metallic silver, and he was lifting a robot foot that had to weigh as much as Logan's beloved pickup truck.

"Hey there, hunky, look at you, you're some kinda Colossus!"

"This from a girl who walks through walls?" he yelled back, "Watch your back!" and he threw the foot at a second giant robot.

A third went down in flames, and I turned on my vantage point of wreckage to see Hank and Sage up on the hill with railguns.

There were still two of the damn things. But our odds got better as a semi roared through the gate, Logan jumping out of the gap where the driver's door should be. Mystique following him a second later.

Logan was all torn up and shirtless, healing up. Whatever they'd been up to, it wasn't nice.

Peter was trying to knock over one of the robots. Logan greeted him, typically. "You're new."

"On loan from the Rodina!"

"Hey Tovarisch, how's your pitching arm?" Logan trotted over to him.

Peter gave him a look. "I rooted for Havana against the Yankees in the last World Series," he offered, confused.

The five foot tall bundle of testosterone and aggression popped his claws out. "Fastball Special, Big Guy. Throw me as hard as you can. My claws'll do the rest."

And Logan went through the robot's chest like a hot knife through butter.

We regrouped. I was watching one of the fallen robots.

It didn't look quite as blown up as it had.

Logan.

Healing factor.

Nanites.

Patches of shiny new repair.

Oh crap.

"Four to one odds," Logan snorted, facing the robot that was still standing. "We should be fine."

"Reality check, Logan! The robots are fixing themselves," I warned.

A shimmering forcefield appeared around the robot, with a loud kapow!

"Bozhe moi, that robot deflected one of Sage's railgun rounds," Peter gasped.

"They're adapting to battle conditions," Mystique said flatly.

"We are so screwed," I whimpered.

And that was when it happened.

A firestorm surrounded us.

And for a second in the shape of the blaze, I thought I saw wings, and a raptor beak opened in a fierce cry of victory.

And then the fire was gone, and so were the robots. Burned to ash, crumbling in the breeze.

None of us had been so much as singed.

"They're gone," Sage toed a bit of ash. "Every one of them shattered right down to their component molecules."

"Lehnsherr?" Logan asked.

"Not even close."

"We still got a robot in our truck," Logan jerked a thumb back at the semi parked on the lawn. "We take it apart, we learn how to beat 'em."

I grinned at him. "You never forget to bring me back a toy from your trips."

McCoy was looking around vaguely. "Does this...happen often?"

"First time," I told him.

And then we all heard Professor Lehnsherr screaming for help.

"McCoy! Sage! For God's sake come at once!"

In the ruins of the clinic wing, Jean Grey was awake, floating about six feet above the ground. An unconscious Xavier draped across her lap. And the golden aura of the fiery bird glowed around them both.

She looked at us with wide green eyes. "Can you help him, please? Can you help me?"

Later...

Jean had been given a clean bill of health, more or less. She was a strong telepath and telekinetic. But she was a little behind, developmentally.

She'd been in a coma since she was eight, after witnessing her best friend's death in a car accident. Feeling it telepathically, and her brain shut down in self defense. She might be able to catch up on the years she'd slept through.

I let her have some of my old dolls to play with while she worked on it.

We had the house rebuilt, and I took a look at my new robot. And then we had a meeting.

"I'm not sure what happened. I'm still processing it. What I know is that Jean saved me. Saved us all. She's awake now, her power speaks for itself. We've got no choice but to deal with it."

"Any chance of nailing Trask legally? I mean, his name's on all the trucks," Mystique asked.

Logan snorted. "With his lawyers? That bird won't fly."

"I've been examining the surviving robot. Professor, there's some kind of sensor array specifically calibrated to the mutant genome!" I reported, too excited by the possible applications to keep silent.

"So he can track us anywhere?" Mystique, always paranoid.

"Yeah, but we can use it, to start building a catalogue of how many mutants really exist in the world and what their powers are."

"One step at a time, Katherine. Before we save the world," Lehnsherr interrupted me, grimly, "we need to resolve the threats that are on our doorstep."

Xavier nodded in agreement. "The world is changing---Humanity is evolving---faster and more drastically than at any time in history. Humanity can be overwhelmed by these changes, or we can try to manage them. To that end, someone has to blaze a trail over this brave new horizon, to set an example that others like us can live by, for the betterment of all," he paused, and slowly looked at us, holding each person's gaze for a moment before moving on.

"That, I believe, is our job. If we're willing to shoulder the burden. My friends, we are the stuff of dreams, but also---possibly---that of nightmares. I believe we've been drawn to this particular place and time for a reason. From the ashes of our conflict, comes the hope to build something lasting for the future. And the price that might well be paid if we fail. The letter X usually refers to the unknown. That applies to us, and to what lies ahead. Who better to wrestle destiny for the fate of that undiscovered future than a band of X-Men?"

The End...or The Beginning?


	2. Attraction

ATTRACTION

BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

An AU Version of the events of the Secret Wars storyarc.

Disclaimer: The X Men are the property of Marvel Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended.

Kitty pouted as I settled down on top of her, squirming experimentally beneath me. "This is stupid. You're too big, too heavy, and if I can't use powers, you're gonna squish me," she complained.

"You have not even tried to free yourself," I chided her patiently. "Logan is right, the self-defense training he has given you relies too much on your phasing ability. You need to practice standard maneuvers, most especially now that Trask is equipping the new generation of Sentinels with those inhibitors."

She blew out a breath, noisily, tickling my cheek, and nodded. "I know."

We had already worked on a few basic moves, using an obscure form that would blend well with her slight build and dance training. She would never reach Tasha's mastery, Kitty did not have the dedication...the obsession...required to turn the unenhanced human body into a weapon the caliber of the Black Widow.

We also worked on a few simple psychological techniques.

The fact that she looks like a small, delicate, helpless teenage girl can also be used in battle. Shrinking back in mock terror only to launch a sophisticated attack once the advantage of the element of surprise had been gained.

Kitty didn't like the sound of it, she found it vaguely insulting.

She squirmed underneath me again, tried to free an arm but couldn't break the light hold I had on her wrist, though she certainly should be able to do so. I loosened my grip and encouraged her. "You can do better than that. Fight harder. Fight for your life, for if an enemy had you so pinned and helpless, your life would be at stake."

"Who writes your dialogue? Doctor Doom's speechwriter?"

"Katherine."

"Peter."

"If you are not going to take this exercise seriously, then we are wasting our time."

Her eyes gleamed, crinkling slightly at the corners with a humor I have learned to fear. "Oh, I'm taking it seriously. Y'know, big guy, if you wanted to roll around on the floor with me, all you had to do was ask," she purred, and her mouth was on mine.

The kiss...surprised me. We had been playing at this flirtation from the day we met, but it had only ever been a game.

We are of an age, but sometimes she seems much younger in her innocence. Though she has worked for Xavier since she was but a child, she has been sheltered. I have killed, I have nearly died. I have betrayed and in turn been betrayed. I've loved, and lost, and fathered a child. I came to Raven's Rock with a heavy heart and a tarnished soul.

Kitty's friendship has done much to relieve me of those burdens, she's made something of a hobby out of 'lightening me up' with her teasing and her jokes, the banter and flirtatious innuendo.

And I must admit, I have idled away the hours before I sleep reliving that tantalizing glimpse of her slender perfect body the first time I saw her, when she walked into the gym and left her clothing on the other side of the wall.

Now, I was only aware of how nice she smelled, that body beneath mine, her warm soft lips, and how very much I wanted her.

She was a very good kisser.

Thus it was an excellent diversion. As I relaxed into our embrace, I was unprepared for the hands lightly stroking my shoulders to close, or the hard shove, her body rolling with mine to put more force into the blow until our positions were reversed.

Kitty beamed down at me proudly, and brushed her lips quickly across mine once more. "Hah! How's THAT for a surprise attack?"

I laughed. "Also one that would be very dangerous to attempt with an enemy, should you lose control."

"But I get the points, right?"

"You get the points," I wrapped my arms around the small of her back, locked fists on forearms, and grinned up at her. "Now. Free yourself again, please."

"Work, work, work," she grumbled, but began wriggling again. She shifted on top of me, hips rolling against mine, and I caught my breath sharply as I realized why this was indeed a stupid idea.

Kitty went very still as I released my hold on her with a breathless curse, and apologized, "I'm sorry, I..."

"Don't be." Kitty did not move and returned my gaze steadily. "Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

I kissed her this time. For a long time. Broke the kiss reluctantly, and then gently urged her to move to snuggle against my side. We needed to talk, and if this continued, I would probably forget how to speak English.

"There are many reasons we should not do this," I began.

"I know. You're Russian, I'm American. You're a secret agent with the Federal Security Bureau, I'm a kooky computer whiz college girl. You're an atheist with pagan leanings, I'm Jewish. You're an omnivore, I'm a vegetarian. You're cool, I'm a geek. You turn into living steel, I turn insubstantial as smoke. Hey, opposites attract, right?"

Despite the lightness of her words, looking into her eyes I saw that she was taking this seriously.

"It will change things between us. People lie to themselves, and say that it won't, but there is a difference between being friends and being lovers. If we should have a falling out, and still have to work together, it will complicate things." I paused, thinking about those last few months with Tasha after I realized that the woman I had fallen in love with was just another of her personas, just an empty mask.

I swallowed, and went on. "And I am on temporary detached duty to serve as liaison to Colonel Vazhin. I may be recalled and reassigned at any time."

"I know. We have to be aware of the bad things that could happen, but we can't let that keep us from living. I like you, Peter. You're smart, and funny, and kind, a talented artist, and a total hunk. Maybe we'll have a month in heaven and then break up. Maybe we'll fall hopelessly in love and then you'll get called back to Moscow. Maybe we'll beat the odds and live happily ever after. Maybe a Sentinel will step on both of us next time they attack. I don't know. I don't care. We're here. Now. So why aren't you kissing me?"

I ask you, how can a man argue with logic like that? As milady commanded, I obeyed. And we spent a pleasant interlude, but I was a bit uncomfortable with the location of our tryst. If Logan happened to stop by to see how Kitty's lessons were progressing, I did not relish a confrontation with her self appointed father figure.

I pulled away and sat up, trying to catch my breath. Kitty propped herself up on her elbows, smiling. "Y'know, we could lock the door. Increase the padding in the mat."

"No."

"Showers?" she grinned, and I groaned.

"Americans and your love of instant gratification. Anticipation, Kitty." I got to my feet and offered her my hand. She took it, and I helped her up. Held her hand, and held her gaze as I bowed over it and brushed my lips against her knuckles. "Such things should be savored. Come to my bedroom tonight, at ten?"

"Is this what they call continental charm in the old movies? Because most guys would probably have their pants off already."

"Then most guys are fools. A lady deserves better."

My answer pleased her, but she looked away suddenly, apprehensive and embarrassed. She stuttered, "Um, Peter...I'm not...there was this guy in Deerfield...before we met...and when I went home for the summer..."

"You have already had a lover. As have I."

"Yeah," she looked up at me from underneath her eyelashes, still uncertain, and I reassured her with another kiss and a smirk.

"It does relieve my mind. I have never been a girl's first...it was worrying me. I didn't want to hurt you. I am not a jealous man, and after tonight I will have no reason to be. Your Deerfield boy will not compare."

Her eyes widened, sparkling. "Not a jealous man, but a confident one, aren't you?"

I merely crossed my arms over my chest and smiled at her. It is not vanity to say that I have a perfect physique. Merely a statement of fact. A gift related to my mutation, for baseline normal men rarely achieve such musculature without steroids, while I have acquired it with a minimum of effort and none of the...diminishing...side effects of drugs.

Kitty's lover had been some fumbling suburban teenage boy. Tasha...my jaded, manipulative Tasha...tutored me in sensual pleasures with the same dedication she devoted to martial arts.

"I think I can make a Kitty purr," I said, knowing the line was gloriously cheesy as I spoke. "Until tonight," I bent to plant a kiss on her amused cheek, and we parted for the showers.

After I showered and dressed, I took one of the cars into town. Raven's Rock Vermont is a quaint village, relying on tourism in the fall color and antiquing season, a few summer homes of the wealthy, and the Good Shepherd clinic. Thus the three block shopping district was a bit more exclusive and extensive than one would expect from a rural New England town.

I arranged to have roses sent to Kitty and made a few purchases before returning to the clinic and my duties there.

I find political analysis of reports rather more relaxing than gathering the information that goes into them. Analysis is done sitting quietly and reading, with snacks and beverages available, and very little chance of being shot, stabbed, or exploded.

The odds of my being stabbed increased suddenly as Logan burst into the room. The Wolverine's claws were unsheathed, and he growled, "Okay, Russkie. You got five minutes to explain why you sent Kit flowers and bought rubbers this afternoon."

Earlier than I had expected, but it confirmed my suspicions that very little that went on in Raven's Rock escaped the notice of Xavier's watchdog. Thanks to his heightened senses and an efficient if informal spy network of gossips on the grapevine.

I would have to include that fact in my next coded report to the Colonel. I saved my work on the computer, and looked up mildly to meet Logan's glare.

"I'd say it was none of your business, but I know she's like a daughter to you. Kitty and I are attracted to each other, and we mean to pursue a relationship. I am not toying with her affections, Logan, not seducing her to amuse myself during this provincial posting. I care for her. And I do not need your approval."

"You don't, huh?" the tone was still threatening, but his claws retracted. He immediately curled his hands into fists. Interesting.

"I have the lady's approval. Tell me, Logan, if I were the type to be frightened off, would Kitty have chosen me?" I asked with a small smile.

He snorted at that, and relaxed, bringing a hand up to comb through his shaggy hair. "Naw. Ramsey follows the girl around like a pup and she's never looked twice at him. Boy'd piss himself if I so much as said boo."

Douglas Ramsey. He wasn't a resident at the Good Shepherd facility, but often served as a translator at meetings of the international committee on mutation. His own gift was a knack for languages. Logan was right, I've seen Kitty with him. No competition.

Logan folded his arms and gave me a long measuring look, then he said quietly, "you don't need my approval, but you got it. You treat Kitty right, you got no problem with me."

I nodded. Logan left, and I let out a breath and went back to my work.

Dinner was served en famille in the dining room. The professors Xavier, Lehnsherr, and Haller. Logan and Mystique. Doctor McCoy and Jean Grey. Kitty and myself.

Charles Xavier did not allow shoptalk at his table, nothing of a nature that would be detrimental to the digestion. So we kept our conversation light, and appropriate to Miss Grey's hearing. There was an entertaining undercurrent to the meal, as Kitty and I traded smoldering glances, and Logan glowered and looked away.

Jean put down her fork, made a face, and a spoonful of garden peas rose a few inches above her plate and began to spin, slowly.

"Jeannie," Gabrielle Haller spoke gently. "Big girls don't play with their food, do they?"

Jean had witnessed a death by a hit and run driver as a child. Her developing telepathy forcing her to experience it firsthand. Her mind shut down in self-defense, the telepathic backlash sending her into a coma that lasted twenty years. She'd been awake for a year now, trying to catch up on the years that she'd slept through.

"They got smooshed in mashed potatoes and all ooky," she explained, and continued to telekinetically separate mashed potato and peas.

Illyana would be playing with her food, smearing the last spoonful of kasha around the bowl so she wouldn't have to eat it. Or had she outgrown that stage already? Had the good Siberian sun and air given her an appetite after her adventures at play in the farmyard so that she licked her plate clean? It has been too long since I went home.

After dinner, I retired to my room and relaxed for a few hours with my sketchbook. Kitty's dragon had raided my supplies once more. The winged extraterrestrial lizard has a taste for charcoal pencils, perhaps I should begin ordering a second box, just for Lockheed.

I've been attempting an architectural study of the house. Frank Lloyd Wright and the Prairie School is a typically American style, and I've found something meditative in the repetition of precise geometric shapes.

When I had finished a detail of windows in the front parlor, I put away my sketching. After setting the stage for seduction, I showered and shaved again, and settled down to wait.

Promptly at ten, there was a tap at my door, and Kitty phased through it and stopped. She was wearing a pink and cream bathrobe, patterned with sprays of rosebuds.

"Wow, you went all out," she murmured, looking around.

Candles burned atop my dresser and bureau on mirrored stands. They filled the room with warm golden light and dancing shadows, perfuming the air with a subtle scent. I was laying on top of the coverlet, wearing black silk boxers, and I sat up as she entered.

"A more romantic setting than the floor of the hologym, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know. The hologym has some pretty elaborate simulations. I'll show you sometime."

I stood, and went to her. "I'll look forward to that." She trembled as I took her in my arms. So. Not very experienced, then. I forced myself to go slowly, gently, as I slipped the robe from her slender shoulders and led her to my bed.

Much later, Kitty sighed as I rolled over and grabbed a pillow that was hanging over the side of the bed, settling down comfortably on my back.

She tucked herself into the crook of my arm, her head on my shoulder, and sighed again. "Mmmmn. Secondary mutation? Because that, that was NOT natural."

I smiled a smug and satisfied smile, and kissed her forehead. "Training. Sexual prowess as an interrogation technique."

She stretched and snuggled closer. "Makes sense. If I knew any secrets, I'd tell them if you promised to do that again."

"Give me fifteen minutes...we'll see."

Days passed in a blissful blur. We did not formally announce our new relationship, but we were not particularly discreet. Kitty's choice of my lap over any other available seating made things fairly obvious. The rest of the residents gave unspoken approval, and Jeannie giggled a lot.

It was the weekly briefing that heralded the next confrontation. The hologym was set up as a basketball court, and Colonel Vazhin arrived for his weekly game of one on one with Professor Xavier during the conference. Kitty, in her unofficial position of junior secretary and all around girl friday, brought in some files the thinktank needed to pass on. She gave me a quick kiss on her way out, and Vazhin noticed.

Of course Vazhin noticed. Vazhin notices everything, that's why he has his job.

The meeting and game concluded. Vazhin showered and changed, said farewell to the professor, and asked me to walk him to his car. A transparent conceit, we all pretended that I was not reporting to my controller.

He palmed the disk with the weekly reports as we talked lightly about the Kirov Ballet and Anya Makarova in the lead role of Sleeping Beauty, falling silent as we reached the black BMW.

Alexei Vazhin looked up at me with a fatherly grin, and switched to Russian. "Piotr Nikoleievitch, when I told you to take this assignment as a vacation; to relax, paint, and screw a lot of pretty American college girls, I assumed it was understood that Xavier's mascot was off limits."

"The heart wants what it wants," I shrugged.

He raised his eyebrows. "Ah, so it is your heart we are talking about? I thought it broken."

"It was. You never love as fiercely as your first love. I was a boy with Tasha, dreamed a boy's dream of love and a life together," I looked away, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. "If nothing else, Tasha made a man of me. Kitty and I chose a casual relationship...we're going to walk down this path together for a way...and see where it leads."

"I wish you the best, but watch your step on that path, boy. You know it would be easier on my heart, or at least my blood pressure, if your love life wasn't a potential international incident."

It was a gentle rebuke, but a rebuke nonetheless. I'd heard worse after making Natasha pregnant with my Illyana and persuading her to bear the child and give her to me before breaking off our affair. The government was not happy about losing the services of one of our top agents for maternity leave.

I had warned Kitty that there would be obstacles to this relationship of ours. Disapproval, unseen pitfalls of fate. Had I but known what was in store for us...I'd have done nothing different. Nothing in life worth having comes to us easily, and pain is always balanced with joy.

I watched the BMW pass through the gates, and walked back to the house.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Time together became more precious as the date of Kitty's return to school approached. She attended the University of Chicago on a somewhat erratic schedule. Allowances were made for her unusual circumstances. Not many eighteen year old girls were part of a government thinktank and situational analysis and response team.

We took long walks in the countryside, shared intimate late suppers at the restaurants in town, and each night she came to my bed.

A strange sliding thumping noise from the hall woke me one night. I rolled over, carefully, and pulled my gun from the nightstand drawer. Kitty stirred beside me, tugging at the covers as I sat up and aimed at the door as it creaked open...and noone was there.

I looked down as Lockheed entered the room tail first, dragging his basket, and I put up my weapon with a chuckle. The small dragon scraped his basket along the floor to the foot of my dresser. Then he climbed in, glared at me and spat "pfui!" before settling down and folding his wings over his head.

The poor creature must be feeling neglected, his mistress having less time for him as our mutual infatuation deepened. I put the gun away, walked over to close the door, and plucked a charcoal pencil from the spiral binding of a sketchbook laying on top of my dresser. And stooped to present the peace offering.

A taloned paw darted out to snatch the treat, vanishing back under the leathery lilac folds.

I went back to bed, Kitty cuddling closer, and the soft sound of splintering wood and crunching charcoal lulled me back to sleep.

When Kitty went off to college, my own University of Siberia teeshirt going with her as nightgown and trophy, Lockheed's basket stayed in my room, along with instructions on the care and feeding of a baby dragon.

The last week before the semester started had been intense. Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but parting is such sweet sorrow...we spent all of our free time together.

A long distance relationship was something neither of us had experience with, and though we knew they could succeed, we also knew they could be difficult.

Between kisses, we whispered promises I no longer really believed in, but would strive to keep just the same, and finally I saw her off to her plane.

A few weeks passed, quieter, and the loneliness was sharper than I had expected. IMs and phone calls were limited by security concerns. I threw myself into work. New patients came to the Good Shepherd Clinic, the thinktank's cover was also a working medical facility for mutation cases. Kurt Wagner, a German acrobat and circus performer and his wife Amanda were having genetic testing done on their unborn baby. Kurt was a mutant with physical changes...blue fur, tridactyl, a prehensile tail...and sometimes there could be complications with mutant births.

I had nothing to do with the medical facility, of course. It simply meant that the professors and McCoy were occupied, and I spent more time babysitting Jean.

And finally, there was a meeting of a UN subcommittee in New York. Dreadfully boring meetings, interesting only for watching the undercurrents of power flowing beneath the flotsam drifting in the open. My position in such meetings was largely ceremonial. I was there to be Russian, to be a reminder that the Raven's Rock thinktank was international, despite close ties to the American government and several of the alphabetical agencies.

It was when we were leaving. Professor Xavier stumbled. Lehnsherr caught his arm, steadying him. "Charles? What is it?"

"A psychic scan...incredibly powerful...it seems to be coming from Central Park. Yes. The Sheep Meadow."

Logan pushed his battered Stetson back on his head. "Maybe we should go take a looksee? Could be a telepath kid just came online and scared spitless."

And so we did. Logan, Mystique, Xavier, Lehnsherr and myself. When we reached the point of origin, we found no mutant child, but an alien structure.

At first glance, I thought perhaps it was some avant garde sculpture, a new art installation by the Parks Department, but Xavier confirmed the telepathic scan was coming from the structure.

It was an arena. Circular, curving walls with four gateway openings. I felt uneasy as we approached it, but could not turn away. Perhaps it was a trick of perception, but the expanse of grassy lawn inside looked larger than the walls could contain.

"How could anything so huge appear in the middle of New York without being noticed?" I asked. We should not enter, not all together, if we did not know the purpose of the device. Yet I could not stop walking forward.

I knew, of course, of the existence of alien races. Xavier's team had made contact with several aliens before I joined them. Kitty's dragon hatchling was a souvenir of one such adventure. My own experience was limited to the international, not the intergalactic.

That changed the instant we stepped through the ring and were transported...elsewhere.

The journey was not instantaneous. It felt like falling through darkness, for a long time. It ended in a crowded confusion. I had transformed instinctively, tearing the shoulder seams of my shirt.

I was standing in a crowd of New York based superheroes, on an alien space ship. Unfamiliar stars shone down through the clear dome above us.

The Avengers: Wasp, She Hulk, Captain Marvel, Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, and Iron Man. The Hulk. Three members of the Fantastic Four: Mister Fantastic, The Human Torch, The Thing.

I noted, too, that all of those whose ability came of an act of will had reacted defensively to the transport, as had I. Wasp grew to normal size from her shrunken form, the Torch burned, Logan's claws were out, and Mystique had reverted to her neutral form from the approachable zaftig blonde she wore for her public face.

There was a moment of confusion as we all introduced ourselves and confirmed that we had been brought here by the Sheep Meadow device. Some had wandered in by themselves, like us, the Avengers had been dispatched to search for the rest of us. It was disconcerting to realize that while we had all arrived together, our departures had been staggered over several weeks.

Kitty. To Kitty, we had vanished---I had vanished---over a month ago.

Bozhe moi, what she must have gone through. Not knowing what had happened, if we were alive or dead. Her lover, and most of her surrogate family.

Rage filled me. I would have to do something special to make it up to her once we escaped and returned to Earth. And our captors would pay dearly for every tear she's shed.

I began looking for a way out, for some sign of a control room. Surely this group of metahumans and mutants could overpower the crew.

It was then that Captain America called out to us, pointing at a duplicate craft flying in tandem with our own. "Look there! Another ship."

"But who is aboard?" Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four mused aloud.

"I am already scanning," Xavier announced. "In a moment I should be able to tell if that ship also carries a shanghaied cargo," we waited as Xavier used his telepathy to scan the other vessel. "...evil, I sense evil...yes...the other vessel carries our nemesises. Enemies of us all."

It is the darker side of human nature. Just as some of us with mutations or other metahuman abilities have become what the media has termed 'superheroes', finding some constructive purpose for the unusual things we can do, working in service to our governments or for the general betterment of Mankind...there are also 'supervillains'.

People who use these powers for personal gain and power.

The other ship contained a number of the most notorious supervillains.

While we considered the implications of this, a new and disturbing situation was developing outside. The stars were going out, one by one.

It was an illusion. It had to be.

Or else we were witnessing an entire galaxy being snuffed out like candles extinguished by an unseen hand.

The twin ships raced through the void, reaching a single planet, circling a single star.

Not a planet, but a construct. Chunks of many different worlds held together in a globe by some unknown force. And not far from the planet, a rift opened in the very fabric of space, streaming out light that made the sun seem dim in comparison.

The words seemed to be spoken aloud, yet I heard them in Russian, others in English, Mystique and Lehnsherr in German, and so on.

"I AM FROM BEYOND! SLAY YOUR ENEMIES AND ALL YOU DESIRE SHALL BE YOURS! NOTHING YOU DREAM OF IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO ACCOMPLISH!"

This pronouncement sent a new burble of dismay throughout our company.

I had, actually, been kidnapped to perform gladiatorial combat to the death for wealthy and jaded fight fans once before. I found it rather disturbing that such a powerful alien entity was so...unimaginative.

The ships approached the planet, the other vessel peeling off for a distant landing on another part of the surface.

A sudden dizzying feeling sent my senses reeling, and we were all standing on a rocky hill.

"Whoa! Suddenly we're landside?" She Hulk cried out.

"Be ready for anything!" Captain America ordered. "Form a circle! I've got the twelve o'clock position. I want an Avenger at two, four, six, eight, and ten. Move! Iron Man, keep your long range sensors peeled."

"Good at giving orders, ain't he?" Logan grunted.

Reed Richards stretched upward, scouting everything within eyesight. "Not a villian in sight."

"We obviously need to elect leadership." Xavier stated. "Richards?"

"Are you suggesting me?" the elastic scientist retracted his torso to normal proportion. "I can't. I have a wife back home. We're expecting a child...and we might never return. We can't risk a leader distracted by personal loss at the wrong moment."

"Ain't none of us here that haven't left somebody behind, bub." Logan spoke up, glancing around, at me, at Erik Lehnsherr. "We oughtta draw straws."

"I'm leader of the Avengers," Janet Van Dyne, the Wasp, announced. "But I'll defer to Captain America. We're in a strange place, up to our ears in a little secret war that may decide the fate of the universe. We don't know each other. We all know of the captain. He has the most experience in both leadership and combat. I vote for him."

It was quickly agreed. With no sign of immediate attack, the captain ordered us to begin exploring our strange new world. We would need shelter, food, and potable water.

It would hopefully be provided. The Beyonder had brought us here safely, this patchwork planet had air, gravity, and temperature capable of sustaining life.

I had the worrying thought that it might be the first trial of this bizarre little contest...cull out the weaker, more vulnerable members of each group.

The current landscape was not promising. Bare sand with scattered swaths of a gray-green mossy substance. Clusters of egg-shaped sprouts huddled together like smooth spineless cacti.

The Hulks were walking together, not far from me. I heard She Hulk ask him, "Slay your enemies', this Beyonder said. So, what, these bozos are going to be trying to kill us...more so than usual?"

Her male companion gave her a comforting pat. "Slay your enemies sounds pretty specific, Jen. Maybe none of your Rogue's Gallery made the cut."

We trudged on, finding little hope and no sign of indigenous life, when suddenly Iron Man's sensors detected a small aircraft to the west, heading toward us.

Almost as the man...or woman...in the powered exoskeletal armor told us, there was a huge explosion and a fireball in the sky.

"Ship shot down," Captain America called out.

"A large chunk of debris landed only a few miles away." Reed Richards reported, stretching his neck, giraffe-like, for a better view.

"That blast was like a nuke going off!" Logan's claws had come out at the shockwave.

"Let's check it out," Captain America ordered. And with a firm destination in mind, we set off double time.

Several of our number could travel much faster than the rest. They went ahead to scout, reporting back, while the rest of us followed en masse, as fast as footpower could travel.

They reported that the wreckage was on fire. Doctor Doom, Victor Von Damm, who had taken leadership of the small European country of Latveria in a coup a few years earlier, had been thrown clear of the wreckage and seemed to be unconscious. He wasn't moving.

Given that Doom habitually wore powered armor of a similar design to Iron Man's, complete with personal force field and anti-grav, it wasn't surprising that he'd survived the crash.

When we reached him, he was muttering semi-coherently, "power so great it humbles us...we are bacteria, insects, dust..."

Captain America approached him cautiously, the young Human Torch calling out a warning. "Don't trust him! He's treacherous. We've got to somehow disarm him first."

Logan's claws popped out. "Let me handle that. I'm gonna enjoy slicing him out of that armor."

"Back off, Wolverine," Captain America held out his hand to the stricken man. "Let me help you, Doom."

Doom got to his feet, ignoring the outstretched hand of friendship. "Doom needs the aid of no man. Is that pity I see in your eyes? Pity yourselves," he blasted a bolt of energy that the captain easily deflected with his shield, and flew off.

"Heads up," Iron Man suddenly called. "Picking up bogies coming in fast."

Our enemies swarmed over the rise, two operating a walking gun platform. No soldier, I fell in the first wave, knocked unconscious by a beam of light.

I woke when the battle was over, somewhat embarrassed by my poor showing.

Mystique was lightly patting my face. "You're okay, Peter. It was a stun blast. You make good cover, Tiger, but someone needs to teach you how to duck."

The realization that Mystique had sheltered behind my armored bulk and then pressed the attack in retaliation was somewhat heartening. My error would look like tactics and not that I was taken by surprise.

I vowed it would not happen again. I could not betray my comrades in arms, for it was likely the next attack would be with lethal force, as our enemies learned to operate the alien weaponry the Beyonder had evidently provided.

It seemed our side was triumphant, forcing the attackers to retreat, and capturing four of their number and taking them prisoner. They were bound and the Hulks carried them. The fliers once again took to the sky to scout ahead, and we hadn't walked far when one came back with word of an apparently unoccupied city to the west.

Again, having a goal made the journey easier. And some of the other heroes seemed to have found the skirmish rejuvenating, something familiar in this unfamiliar world.

I found myself walking with Mystique, taking the rear guard. After a couple of hours, she commented, "Hey spyguy, I know you're the strong silent type, but this is getting ridiculous."

I shrugged, and said nothing for a time. Then, when I was certain the others were too far ahead to hear, I admitted it. "I froze."

Mystique gave me a sympathetic look. "Open combat's different than the cloak and dagger game. I've done enough of both to know," her golden eyes narrowed. "You were lucky. Noone died this time, and if more than likely would have been you."

I looked away. "I know."

"So we're going to take that second chance, yes? Because we're getting off this rock and going home. All of us."

I smiled a little. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Her turn to shrug and smile. "Kit, you, Lil' Red...I think you're bringing out my dormant maternal instincts. So humor a very very old woman. Do better next time. Don't put us through losing you."

We walked on, and soon reached the city. I had to smile. "Bozhe moi, Kitty will hate to have missed this. It looks like Atlantis, on the Stargate television program."

Not quite, though. Tucked against a black cliff with a fine waterfall, towers of mirrored and stained glass rose into the sky. A great dome covered the center, forcefield or some unknown building material, it glowed translucent and the palest pink, like rose quartz.

The Thing hesitated and scraped fingertips over his rocky scalp as we approached a broad and curving staircase. "Ya sure we oughtta go in, Reed? Could be a city, could be another crazy funhouse ride like the one in Central Park."

"I don't think so, old friend," Reed reassured him. "I see little point in it."

Many of our group spread out to search our new fortress. Logan and I volunteered to watch over our prisoners. They remained unconscious, and we remained mostly silent. Logan is laconic by nature, and despite his grudging acceptance of our relationship...he does not like me, and does not like the thought of his 'Kitten' in my bed.

I suppose no father, by blood or by heart, is ever comfortable with his daughter's lover. It was something I would have to face with Illyana, eventually, when she grew up. A thought I found rather disconcerting myself.

I spent the time going over everything that had happened since Central Park, composing a mental report for Colonel Vazhin, and planning the stories I would tell Kitty when we got back to Earth. She would groan, and complain, thinking it a great adventure that she had missed.

Reed Richards and his party returned, and Richards announced that they had found a prisoner detention center. We carried our captives there, and he placed them in a state of psychostasis, except for the woman known as Enchantress. She had taken a strong blow to the head in battle, and so she was taken to the medical unit attached to the jail.

To Be Continued.


	3. Attraction Two

ATTRACTION

BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

Chapter Two

"How do you know how all these alien gizmos work, anyway? Like, how can you be sure we didn't just stick the chick in a cell, and put the other guys in hospital beds?" the young Johnny Storm asked his team leader.

"Given parallel evolution and the inescapable bounds of the laws of physics, it only requires a certain amount of intuitive logic."

I stared at him, jokingly. "I'm sorry, I thought I was fluent in English, but..."

Johnny snorted. "Don't sweat it, Pete, me and Benny need a secret decoder ring too."

"I get it," Logan said unexpectedly. "I don't know nothing about gunsmithing, but I can still fire a flintlock, Sig Sauer, Uzi, or one 'o'them ray guns aliens always got. A weapon is a weapon is a weapon, and all of 'em are gonna have a barrel and a trigger."

"Yes. Ah, quite."

Captain America had left orders for everyone to make their way toward the great dome in their explanations. We passed through great chambers of unknown purpose, finding fresh wonders around every corner.

One large gallery served as a hydroponic garden. Richards decided to stop and check it out. Before anyone could stop him, Logan picked an apple-like fruit and bit into the turquoise skin.

"Logan! We have no way of knowing if that fruit is poisonous!" Richards barked at him.

Logan swallowed. "Now you do. I got a healing factor, Doc, makes me damn near immortal. Been poisoned before. If I keel over, we know this stuff ain't fit for human consumption."

It made for a rather tense walk to the dome, as we watched Logan for signs of dropping in his tracks.

Once we had all reassembled in the dome's amphitheater, we found ourselves with three new recruits. Captain America introduced them. Spider-man was familiar from near daily appearances in the Daily Bugle. The young girl with white-streaked brown hair and wearing a hooded coat and gloves---had she been taken in winter, then? Had yet more months passed on Earth?---was Rogue, and the man in the biker's black leather with a visor surgically implanted over his eyes was Cyclops.

Once they had been seated, Spider-man making several acrobatic leaps and jumps to reach the highest row, the captain addressed us.

"We've won the first skirmish, but not the war," he neatly laid out his plans.

After our fliers had rested, they needed to return to their scouting. He wanted a search pattern of concentric circles spreading out from our city.

"We'll need guards posted at the four compass points, until our recon team locates the enemy position," he continued. "We'll need to settle on our living quarters, and collect food and water from the parts of the city where that's available, and evaluate rationing..."

Several people volunteered for the various duties, and left. I approached the captain, where he was talking to Richards, Lehnsherr, Xavier, and Iron Man about looking for weaponry, or perhaps a ship. This city was extraordinarily advanced, and empty. Perhaps by the Beyonder's hand, or perhaps the citizens had taken to space, and might have left a surplus vessel. Faint hope, but better than none.

"What is it, son?" Captain America broke off the conversation as I approached.

"Sir, my name is Peter Rasputin. I'm an agent with the Federal Security Bureau. I'm something of an expert on infiltration and information-gathering."

He nodded, catching my drift. "Once we locate the enemy, you're volunteering for espionage."

Erik Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow.

"Yes sir. And I thought you should be aware of all possible assets in contingency planning."

"Good man. I'll keep that in mind. Why don't you join one of the foraging parties for now, they could use the muscle." Captain America dismissed me with a firm nod, then hesitated. "Rasputin? Any relation to..."

I smiled thinly, the time-worn quip about the Mad Monk on the tip of my tongue.

"...Andrei Grigorivitch? Lieutenant in the Red Guard flying squadron?"

And I suddenly remembered that this man who looked no older than me had fought in the Great Patriotic War. What Americans call World War Two.

"My grandfather, sir."

"Blood tells." His smile was warmer and wider. "Andy and I got into some scrapes on the wrong side of the Stalingrad line, back in the day. Things settle down, you and I'll sit down, I have some stories to tell," he offered.

"I would appreciate that, sir," and I went off to join the food gathering crew in a thoughtful mood.

Days passed. Our diet was monotonous. There was the fruit from the hydroponic garden, and in a storeroom was discovered crates of MREs the Beyonder had somehow appropriated from the US military. It did seem he wished to provide for us, to find more entertainment in our battles and struggles than in watching us slowly starve and fade.

Our enemies occupied a similar city several hundred miles away.

We had little respite, and I never did get to have that talk with Captain America. With so few of us, the prospect of guarding and fully exploring the city had to be taken in shifts. We were settling down into a routine when a flaming 4 appeared in the sky over a city tower that held the power generator.

Cyclops was responsible for trying to tamper with the generator. To my surprise, almost the full fury of his attack was directed at me, as he ranted incoherently about sinister intentions, marauders, and unnervingly seemed to believe that I was sleeping with Jean Grey, screaming that she'd been promised to him.

None of us had mentioned our young Phoenix since arriving here.

Despite our best efforts, he took Janet Van Dyne hostage and made his escape. The Avengers were quite subdued over the next day as we plotted her rescue.

"Marauders," Logan grunted as we shared a meal. "I heard of 'em. Hate crime group with a twist, mutant on mutant. Vic's with 'em," he added in an aside to Mystique.

"Sabey-baby? What did I ever see in that thug?" she sighed.

"Supposed to follow a guy named Essex. Practical Darwinists with guns."

Professor Xavier cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. Nathaniel Essex. A geneticist with some odd theories on evolution and mutation. A dangerous man, indeed."

The Wolverine popped a claw out and used it to slice one of the not apples from the hydroponic garden, explaining to the rest of us, "guy has a list of characteristics for mutants. Human appearance, strength, useful powers, et cetera and so on. You don't got enough items checked off on his list, he sends his Marauders to kill you. Thinks he's in charge of cleaning the gene pool."

"I must say," Professor Lehnsherr added slowly, "that I find our young Marauder's interest in Jean, and in Peter here, deeply disturbing."

There was a moment of silence. Jean. Lehnsherr's wife Gabrielle. Doctor McCoy. Sage. Kitty.

The Good Shepherd Clinic in Raven's Rock Vermont was not undefended. It was, after all, a government thinktank.

Yet.

Until now, our greatest worries had been how we would survive and escape this gameboard of a world the Beyonder had transported us to. Now, we all worried about our loved ones left behind, facing such danger in our absence.

We didn't have the luxury of worrying for long. The Thing found himself mysteriously transformed back to human form. The betrayal by Cyclops led to metahuman mistrust, angry looks, the word mutant whispered as one of us passed, the description becoming a slur by tone of voice.

Must it ever be so? That normal men---and even those not so normal---fear and hate us because we are mutants?

As if to provide atmosphere to the darkening mood and division among our company, it began to pour. Huge storms, with rolling thunder and flashes of lightning, hurricane winds and torrential rain. Thor did what he could to clear the skies, but it seemed to be the beginning of the rainy season. This patchwork planet's weather systems finally rebelling against the violence of its birth.

The river and waterfall that ran by our base of operations began to rise, flooding its banks, and a large boulder came down toward the dome, destroyed at the last moment by a blow from Thor's hammer.

One disaster averted. In vain. As dawn broke, the storm faded, and our enemies struck once again, crashing a large airship into the city. It was similar to the one we had just found, operated telepathically. But they did not use it as a mode of transport.

They used it for a missile.

We fought, and this time I made a better accounting of myself, but we were overwhelmed, and outnumbered, and all too soon Captain America ordered us to scatter, retreat and regroup later.

We fled in the ship we had found, piloted by Professor Xavier. Our little group of mutants. The girl, Rogue, had joined us. Mystique had adopted her, taken her under her wing.

Xavier outlined his plan. He had been in telepathic communication with Cyclops, and we were joining him, in the hope of turning him to our cause, and rescuing the Wasp.

It was his bigoted hatred for non-mutants and his absurd jealousy of me that led to his act of sabotage. Regardless of ideology, the boy's powerful force blasts were a weapon we wanted on our side.

"Sounds good, Chuck," Logan snorted. "But what makes you think you can turn a kid so crazy from hate to the side of the angels?"

Lehnsherr said quietly, "because he's done it before." The old friends shared a look, and Lehnsherr went on. "I was angry, after the war. Charles and Gabrielle stopped me from doing something very stupid. Killing a man."

Softly, almost inaudibly, he added, "I suspect our lives would have been very different indeed, had I not listened."

We joined Cyclops at his base. After hearing about the attack, Janet Van Dyne decided to go search out the others, shrank to become the Wasp, and flew off.

"Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours!" Cyclops quoted. "That means the flatscan trash and those freaks who chose to imitate our birthright."

We were forced to listen to this drivel for several hours, before choosing rooms and retiring for the night. This edifice was from yet another alien world, curves and angles in the design and odd furnishings. I found a low, unpadded cot with a square of softer, sculpted material, like eggcrate foam. For all I knew it was a coffee table, but it was dark, and quiet, and large enough. I've slept in less comfortable environs. I reclined, not bothering to take my boots off, and let my thoughts turn to Kitty.

At home...strange to think of the thinktank as home, instead of the farm...I would be laying awake waiting for her to come to bed. Now I lay awake on an alien world, countless light years from Earth, with no way of returning...no hope of ever seeing her again.

No. I held the image of her in my mind. Eyes sparkling, mouth quirked in an impish smile. Kitty was sweet, funny, both innocent and wise beyond her years, so very beautiful... I loved her.

Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours.

I looked into my heart, and asked what it was I desired.

Wealth? Fame? Power?

I did not doubt the Beyonder's power. If I played this game and won...slew my enemies...I could rule the world. Have my paintings hung in the greatest museums and galleries.

Whatever I desired.

A simple house, with enough land for a garden and a dog to run. Kitty. Illyana. And perhaps a little boy with Kitty's eyes and impish smile.

Slay your enemies.

I've killed before. I've shot men from rooftops, and in hand to hand combat. Unnumbered deaths on my hands...the spy thrillers gloss over collateral damage. Innocent people caught in car chases and crashes. Guards hit just a little too hard. That unlucky percentage allergic to knock out gas. Minions executed by their masters because Natasha and I escaped, escaped with the plans, the prototype, the hostage.

I had settled down with my desk job at Xavier's, happy to be out of the field and that that dark phase of my life was over.

But for Kitty? For the chance to return to her? For happily ever after?

Slay your enemies. Anyone who stands between me and my Kitty is my enemy. On these troubling thoughts, I managed a few hours of fitful sleep before Xavier roused us all with a telepathic summons. The image of a spaceship, unbelievably vast.

"I have gleaned this information from Reed Richards' thoughts. What you see is the home of Galactus. A solar system sized mechanical construct. He has apparently summoned it here for reasons not yet clear."

Cyclops muttered, "If I hadn't seen the Beyonder destroy an entire galaxy, I wouldn't believe this...but now...I guess it's getting easier to accept the impossible." He looked shaken. Such a crack in his worldview would give Professor Xavier something to work with in his rehabilitation.

"What are we going to do?" the girl, Rogue asked, wide-eyed. Mystique put a motherly hand on her shoulder, reassuring her.

"Rogue, you and the others will go now and prepare the ship! We may have to move quickly against Galactus, if, as Xavier and I fear, this event foreshadows hostile action. In the meantime, Xavier and I shall try a more subtle approach."

"Since when do you give us orders?" Cyclops sneered, mostly out of habit, for he turned and followed us to the hangar bay anyway.

Xavier's attempt to contact and reason with the planet-eater only woke Galactus from his daze. It was decided we should rejoin the others---safety in numbers. Cyclops seethed at the thought of joining forces with the lesser metahumans, but again backed down.

Xavier used his telepathy to locate the others...and when we arrived the heroes were under attack by the villains. The city had been abandoned after the attack, now the heroes were camped just outside a village of bewildered alien humanoids.

The battle raged through the village itself, sending villagers fleeing in terror, and I was in the heart of it. I had picked my target as we entered the fray, a vile man who deserved to die. I hoped that his death would count to the Beyonder and I would be returned home to my Kitty.

I needed her. Needed to take her in my arms and kiss her, tell her that I love her. Needed to tell her everything, trust her with my daughter, my secrets.

I was strangling Doctor Octopus with his own prosthetic appendages when an explosion of pain knocked me off of him. A member of the Wrecking Crew stood over me, crowbar raised. No ordinary tool...it felt like my ribs had broken, despite the fact that I wore steelform.

A blast of red light toppled my attacker. Through tears of agony, I saw Cyclops nod once, and turn away to face another foe. Pain swallowed me for a moment, and I knew nothing else.

I came back to myself with only a numb awareness that I was badly injured, and Xavier's voice inside my mind.

PETER. LAY STILL. YOUR RIBS ARE SHATTERED. ONE OF YOUR LUNGS WAS PUNCTURED AND A SHARD OF BONE IS DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO YOUR HEART. WE COULDN'T MOVE YOU WITHOUT KILLING YOU, BUT THERE IS A HEALER IN THE VILLAGE. ZSAJI. STAY WITH THEM UNTIL YOU ARE WELL. WE WILL REMAIN SEPARATE, A THIRD FORCE ALLIED WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA'S GROUP. IT SEEMS TACTICALLY PRUDENT.

YES, PROFESSOR. I WILL STAY HERE, I thought back. The phase tactically prudent carried layers of meaning. The infiltration and espionage skills I had offered Captain America would now be turned against him. Xavier needed to know how strong the anti-mutant sentiments ran in this group, after Cyclops showed his true colors.

Iron Man was running triage. He knelt beside me, and I managed to gasp the name of the healer. "zah-gee..."

"Hey Hotshot! We've got a badly wounded man over here! Can you get your medic girlfriend to take a look?"

I heard Johnny Storm's voice from behind us. "I'll try. But who knows if she can help a mutant? I mean, they're not exactly normal humans."

Iron Man was angry. Good. "Let me get this straight. A guy who can burst into flames has doubts that the alien chick faith healer can help a guy who turns into steel...because he's a mutant. Well. Thank god he ain't black," the sarcasm came through the armored suit's speakers clearly.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," the young Human Torch protested, moving into my line of sight with a young alien woman clinging to his arm.

She was exotically lovely, with a great mane of fine silver hair, large almond shaped amber eyes, the pupil slitted. Rounded curves wrapped in a purple kimono jacket as she kneeled beside me and said something in a musical language.

The block Professor Xavier had put on the pain receptors was fading. But when Zsaji touched me, even that lingering pain vanished, a sensation washed over me as soothing as a dip in a cool lake on a hot summer day.

Zsaji's touch. If her mere hand on my forearm felt like that...what would her hands caressing me be like? My hands, exploring that copper-tinged skin? Making love to her would be...would...

"What are you doing? Leave me alone..." I muttered, a nameless dread filling me. Something was wrong...something...I shouldn't...

She looked startled, and lifted her hand from my arm, turning questioningly to Johnny.

"It's okay, babe. He's delirious. Try again, give him another dose."

She crooned to me, comfortingly, in that liquid language that was sung rather than spoken and I remembered the myth of the sirens, the beautiful singing creatures that lured sailors to their doom.

She ran a hand through my hair, exclaiming at the color, and another wave of euphoria rolled through me. She moved both hands down to my crushed ribcage, and I lost myself in the heavenly sensation of her healing touch.

The treatment ended, and I watched her leave to attend to Spider-man. I found I could sit up a bit, the pain lessened to a dull ache deep in my bones.

Zsaji applied her hands and her powers to Spider-man's broken ankle, and he got to his feet.

Johnny swung her around happily. "Nice work, ladylove. You are terrific!"

"And she's gorgeous, too," Spider-man spoke admiringly. "That healing touch is better than a week in intensive care."

She was so very beautiful...and very much in love with the Human Torch. I watched them embrace, wondering why it troubled me so. My own loneliness? I missed...the girl at the clinic. Kitty, wasn't that her name? The girl who followed me around... Kitty, yes...

I watched Zsaji walk off into the village with Johnny Storm, willing her to come back, to come back and touch me again, to sit near me so I could gaze at that lovely face, into those mysterious golden eyes. She didn't even look back.

Iron Man helped me get out of the middle of the street, and then he and some of the aliens built a crude lean to for shelter. I lay back, taking shallow breaths against the piercing pain in my side, and watched as Captain America directed the efforts to clean up the aftermath of our battle.

Despite their own peril, the first concern of Captain America and his group was for the innocents affected by the war. I did not believe that any distrust remained. Johnny Storm spoke out of genuine concern that precious time would be lost if Zsaji tried and failed to treat my wounds, when there were other heroes with field medicine experience that could be fetched.

I watched She Hulk move debris from a crumpled hut, and wished I felt well enough to help her. I had been resting long enough to grow restless...nothing to read, nothing to draw with, only observing what I could see from my lean to. I've always been a poor patient.

I tentatively called out to Xavier with my mind, but got no response, and I wondered if they had returned to the mountain outpost Cyclops had claimed, or if they had found a new bolthole elsewhere.

I worried about Illyana...had my mother and father been informed that I was missing? Did they tell Illyana? I had been out of contact before, but now my daughter was old enough to notice that the cartoon-letters and small presents I sent had stopped coming.

I thought about Kitty, and tried to figure out what day it was on Earth. If she would be at college or back in Raven's Rock. I wondered if she'd given me up as dead, grieved, and moved on.

It had been so long...too long. I was starting to forget what Kitty looked like. I tried to picture her, hold her face in my mind's eye...but all I could see was Zsaji.

I shifted position, and couldn't resist a small yelp as fresh pain stabbed through me. One of the aliens working nearby called out, encouragingly and trotted off. Zsaji came a few moments later.

She smiled, and reached out to gently massage my chest. The pain faded and I relaxed, drifting again into that pleasant fog.

"Hello...I was just...I wanted to tell you, I think you're, whatever this is that you do makes me feel so much better..." I stammered like a schoolboy.

She trilled questioningly, and laid a hand on my forehead. It was hard to think clearly. I could only sleep briefly after one of her treatments, else the pain roused me. I was tired, and the relief brought by her touch sent my head swimming.

I gazed at her serene and exquisite face and told her, "Zsaji, I think you are the most beautiful, most wonderful woman I have ever met...and it is good that you speak no English or Russian, or you would think me a babbling fool."

She spoke again, running her fingers through my hair. The color seemed to fascinate her, all of the people of her village were platinum blond, and none of the heroes who went uncowled had hair as dark as mine.

I could lay there, basking in the light touch of her hands, gazing at her beautiful face, and listening to her speak her language that trilled like birdsong, for the rest of my life.

All too soon she gave my cheek a light caress, tracing the line of my jaw with her thumb, and got to her feet. I made a wordless sound of protest as she stepped out of the lean to and the Human Torch swooped down on her like a hawk.

He had extinguished the flame on his arms so he could safely gather her up and soar off.

They landed again, a few feet away, and I could hear Zsaji laughing merrily as the boy boasted.

"Well, you're right, babe. I'm not going to let you fall. Being as it might be the last few days of our existence, how about we go sneak off and make out by the waterfall?"

I turned my head so that I would not have to watch them walk off together, my mood darkening. What did she see in that arrogant childish boy? She was...she deserved better, a man who worshipped her. Someone like me...

Days passed. Professor Xavier did not contact me again, and my attempts to make telepathic contact failed. I began to wonder if the other X Men were dead.

The great ship of Galactus loomed threateningly overhead.

Zsaji visited me several times a day, but never for long enough. I tried to learn more of her language than her name, so that I could talk to her.

The Human Torch brought me food, and Johnny often stayed to eat with me. I found I could not be too jealous of the boy. He too had been healed by the beautiful alien girl, and when he spoke of Zsaji I could tell that his feelings for her were as strong as mine.

There was another attack on the village, and the villains tauntingly tossed the Wasp's body from their war machine as they passed through, firing weapons randomly. She'd been shot while patrolling.

The Avengers mourned the loss of their leader. I did not know her well, but she was good, and heroic, and a fellow mutant. I was feeling stronger, and so I got up and made my way to the hut where Janet Van Dyne's body was laid out awaiting burial. I wanted to pay my respects.

And I found Zsaji leaving the hut, face as pale as her hair, and crumpling to the ground in a dead faint.

I gathered her anxiously in my arms, found her breathing and heartbeat both weak, for humans, although what normal was for her species I did not know.

And then, from within the hut I heard a groan, and realized the truth. Zsaji had brought the Wasp back to life, and dangerously depleted herself to do so.

"Rest now, my beautiful, beloved Zsaji, I will care for you as you cared for me when I was injured. If I only had your powers..." I called out for help, for both Zsaji and Janet.

Some women of the village came, took in the situation, and led me to Zsaji's hut. I carried her there, and placed her gently on her bed, staying at her side.

The poor girl was as weak as a kitten. One of the women brought some broth, and I supported Zsaji, helping her sit up while the older lady fed her, spoonful by spoonful.

I slept on the floor of her hut that night, so that I would be near her if she cried out.

In the morning she seemed stronger, less fragile. That pleased me, but when I stepped outside to answer a call of nature...I saw a terrible sight.

The machine Galactus used to atomize a planet before consuming it, atop a nearby mesa.

The beginning of the end.

I glanced back at the hut, and then around the village. No. There may be nothing I can do but try, yet I must try to stop him. With a last look through the doorway at Zsaji's peacefully sleeping face, I transformed, my flesh becoming living steel, and I started for the mesa at a dead run.

Already I could see the other heroes attacking the device...and having little effect. Not even the explosion that plumed dust and smoke high in the air seemed to touch the planet-killer.

I reached the summit where the Avengers were trying to break the giant machine, avoiding the defensive drones and the bands of energy meant to tear this world apart and convert the mass to energy.

I could see the crater from the explosion I had witnessed, marring one of the foothills. Captain America shouted to me that the X Men had last been seen there, that I could go look for survivors. As much as I wanted to, I had to do my part in protecting Zsaji's village, so I stayed with the Avengers and other heroes until Iron Man got through Galactus' defense drones and damaged the machine.

At that moment, Reed Richards called a halt to our attack with a horrifying proposition. That we let Galactus destroy and devour this world. That we die. For if Galactus won the Beyonder's cruel contest...surely what he desired was an end to his hunger. Our deaths would save countless billions of worlds.

It made a sickening sense.

No sooner had Richards spoken, he vanished, taken aboard the great ship of Galactus by transporter beam. We waited, arguing the point. Nothing happened. Captain America gave the order to stand down and wait and see what Richards had to say on his return.

I went to the crater where the X Men had last been seen alive, and began to dig through the rubble. I had to duck as a red beam of light burst through a crack between boulders. Cyclops' force blasts. I began digging faster.

Soon a large slab of rock lifted into the air, and the girl, Rogue, came up underneath it, flying up.

"You're alive," I called out with relief.

She gave me a weak grin. "I reckon so."

Cyclops reached up from the hole beneath the slab, and I caught his hands and hauled him to the surface.

"When that drone exploded, Lehnsherr pulled a thick layer of rocks---ore deposits---on top of us for protection. You guys are good, I'll give you that," the young Marauder said enthusiastically.

"Of course. We're the good guys," Rogue chirped as she landed, and helped Xavier and Lehnsherr out of the hole, followed by Logan and Mystique.

"The blast still very nearly killed us," Xavier said quietly. "Captain America's people have returned to the village. We'll do the same."

Janet Van Dyne was up, talking to her fellow Avengers. As we entered the village square, Zsaji emerged from her hut. I breathed a sigh of relief to see her well and whole.

She ran to greet Johnny, who gave her a distracted kiss. Reed Richards had not yet returned, and the Human Torch was quite understandably worried that Galactus had not grabbed him for parley, but as an appetizer.

There was discussion of what to do next. Captain Marvel wanted to steal some ships from Doom's base and mount an assault on Galactus' worldship. Captain America wanted to wait longer and assess the situation. Loyal to the end, the Thing swore he'd follow Richards' last words and surrender.

I wanted to live, but looked to Xavier to give our group's official decision. And Richards was suddenly among us again, dropped down by a transporter beam.

Richards reported a confusing conversation with Galactus, but remained convinced that surrender was the right thing to do.

And so the three members of the Fantastic Four stayed behind as the rest of us went off in what might be a futile attempt to stop Galactus from destroying this world.

Unbeknownst to us, Doctor Doom had his own diabolical plan in play. We defeated Galactus, destroyed the machine...but it was no victory. The planet-eater used the machine to make it a little easier, but had no real need for it...and when we had proven we would deny him this world, he turned that inescapable hunger on his own ship. The ship dissolved into pure energy. Energy that was redirected to Doom's base.

And there, using more of the alien technology, Doom absorbed it. Becoming much more than mere metahuman. Deciding the Beyonder himself was his only equal and enemy, Doom went to confront our captor, opening a portal in space that would take him to his foe.

We all followed the stream of energy to Doom's base, but he had already left. Shockwaves from the battle came through the portal, shaking the ground and affecting the very fabric of space.

A piece of some strange alien device was wrenched loose from its moorings and fell from the wall, literally flattening Richards. His teammates hurried to his side. The Hulk had found a monitor station that displayed various areas of the planet. All showed scenes of devastation.

"Hulk, please, can you focus on the alien village?"

"Certainly." He adjusted the controls, and my heart sank.

The village was on fire, and I stared, numbly, as I spotted an older man carrying Zsaji. Blood dripped down her lovely face from a livid gash on her forehead.

I turned to where Johnny and the Thing were still bent over the prone figure of their teammate. "Johnny, I have bad news," I said gently. "Zsaji's been injured."

"Huh?' he said distractedly, cradling his brother-in-law's head in his lap. "Reed's hurt. I've got no time for a groupie now. I'll send her a card later."

"Groupie?" I breathed, dangerously. I think I might have killed the boy if another quake hadn't struck at that moment. A more violent quake.

Captain America ordered me, Iron Man, Hulk, and Thor, the largest and strongest of us, to brace the walls.

I gave the Torch another murderous look, and did so. How could he so callously speak of Zsaji? Zsaji who had saved our lives, who had healed the Wasp through it caused her great pain. Zsaji who even now may lay dying.

The quakes continued until it became obvious that staying would be madness. We released a number of the villains that Doom held captive, and tried to ride out the earthquakes on the empty plain.

It was the Hulk who said what all of us were thinking.

"This planet just might shake itself apart. And then where will we be?"

"Part o'that great driveway in the sky, I s'pose," the Thing answered.

The quakes stopped. A bright light shone in the sky. An orb of light, trailing star shaped rays.

"Be ready for anything," Captain America muttered, as the orb of light lowered to the ground before us, like a child's drawing of a setting sun.

The light faded...and there was Doom, silhouetted against the sky like a giant, like Galactus himself.

"This is going to be the fight of our lives," Captain America said grimly. "On my command, attack. And don't stop, don't let up, no matter what. We must find a way to win. We will find a way to win."

"Hold," Doom thundered, and suddenly stood before us, no larger than a normal man. "Let me return to human proportions so that we may speak more easily, face to face..." and with those words he removed the mask that concealed his features.

Everyone knew the story of the accident, and the disfiguring scars, but the face Doom now revealed was unmarred and pleasantly handsome.

"The Beyonder is no more, and I have been reborn. Thus have two evils come to an end. There is no enemy left to fight. The war is over."

Doom spoke briefly about his defeat of the Beyonder, and then disappeared as the ground shook once more. We did not know what to make of it, but later would learn that one of the villains, the powerful but meek Molecule Man, brought Doom to him.

It had been a very long day, and so it was decided that we would comandeer the habitable part of Doom's base for the night.

I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, that glimpse of Zsaji, bleeding, filled my imagination. I had to see her! It was an ache in my heart, an emptiness in my soul. I had not felt this way with Natasha, or Kitty. This love of Zsaji consumed me. I had to be with her, or I would die.

I took a sky sled, and rushed back to the village, afraid of what I might find there. Dawn was almost breaking when I reached the village.

I stopped to gather some wildflowers before going to her hut, hoping I was not too late. That head wound. If she was still weakened from healing others...it may have been fatal.

They had managed to save the village. Only a few huts had been damaged by the earthquake, and the fire had engulfed only the hut where an oil lamp had tipped over, setting the spilled oil aflame.

She was sleeping peacefully, the gash on her forehead already gone. She stirred at my footstep, sitting up and calling out for him hopefully. "Jah-nee?" The name was like a knife in my heart.

I turned in the doorway, letting the moonslight catch my features before entering, crossing to her bedside, and kneeling to present the flowers.

"Tomorrow we might all die. I couldn't face that without trying to let you know how I feel."

She took the flowers, puzzled, it wasn't a custom among her people. She touched a velvet petal, and inhaled their scent. Her eyes softened, and she reached out and laid a hand along my cheek. I shivered at her touch, turning my head to plant a kiss in the palm of her hand.

She smiled, and said my name, as if seeing me for the first time. "P'tah," and leaned up to kiss me.

There are no words to describe what making love to Zsaji was like. Not in any language that can be spoken aloud.

When morning came, we walked out of the village, along the river, breakfasting on fruit picked fresh from the trees along the way.

We spent a pleasant idyll in a tranquil glad until the mental voice of Professor Xavier summoned me back to Doom's base.

The Beyonder had been vanquished. By Victor Von Doom. A notoriously paranoid dictator was now quite literally the most powerful man in the universe.

"Doom claims he's transcended all human desire. What if he hasn't? We've seen the power of the Beyonder...Doom's power...in action before. It is such power that nothing in the universe can take place without his consent. No matter how enlightened or benevolent he's become, freedom to do what Doom allows is not freedom. And remember, the first thing Doom did with his newfound power?" Captain America asked.

"He repaired the scarring on his face," Reed Richards nodded slowly. "showing ordinary human vanity. I see your point."

Captain America looked around the table. "Absolute power corrupts, absolutely. It's an old saying. And a true one. We've all seen it happen, to one extent or another."

To Be Continued


	4. Attraction Three

ATTRACTION

BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

Chapter Three

"Yes," Richards agreed with him. "We've got to stop him now, before it's too late. Get him to give up these powers."

The Human Torch, insolently juggling balls of flame, boasted, "we'll knock him down a peg or ten."

And the ever loyal Thing agreed, "What Reed says goes for alla us."

The Avengers voted next.

"I think the captain's right. I can't believe Doom could give up lording it over people. And now that he can do anything...it's too much power for one person. I wouldn't trust myself with it, let alone Doom."

The rest of her team chimed in with their agreement.

Professor Xavier spoke up next. "Perhaps I know better than you the temptation of insidious power---power which can be used for subtle manipulation. I believe that our only choice is to resist Doom now, before he becomes accustomed to these new abilities."

"I think Charles speaks for all of us," Lehnsherr nodded.

"Yes," Mystique voted, her hand on Rogue's shoulder. The girl nodded.

"You said it, baby." Logan growled.

Cyclops smirked. "Well. I say if anybody takes over the universe, it ought to be us. This Doom guy isn't even a mutant."

"Colossus? You haven't spoken yet, and you're the last. How do you vote?"

I'd been giving the matter serious thought. And I did not like the way the others agreed so quickly.

"He claims to be a completely different individual, to have been redeemed by the experience. We do not know his intentions. If we strike, unprovoked, does that not make us the aggressors?" I pointed out.

"It's true," Captain America agreed with me. "I don't know if this is the right thing to do. That's why I want a unanimous vote. We could be condemning an innocent man, here. Destroying a new force for good. But if Doom can't be trusted, the alternative..."

"The alternative is unthinkable. The potential for abuse is too great, and if this is the only time we can act, I vote we fight."

No sooner than I had spoken, there was an explosion, and I knew no more for a long time. Waking to a scene of devastation and horror.

Doom, omniscient, had decided to quell our rebellion at the start.

The villagers, this time, had come to our aid. I watched as Zsaji's people helped stunned superheroes to their feet.

I did not see Zsaji.

"Zsaji. Where is she?" I asked, and Johnny Storm came to me with tears in his eyes, and I knew.

"No." I tried to deny the horrible sick certainty clawing at my heart.

"She saved us, Peter. Saved us all, brought us back. You know how it was almost too much for her with Janet...she's gone, Peter."

He was trying to block me from the sight of our Zsaji, laying where she had fallen. I shoved the boy aside and rushed to gather her limp form in my arms.

She was cold, and still, those luminous eyes glazed, dull and empty. "No," I pleaded. "You give life, can you take? Take mine, Zsaji, please, please..."

Strong hands closed on my shoulders and tried to lift me, gently, to my feet.

"Pete. C'mon, kid. You can't do nothing for her. She's gone. It's all right. She's gone." Logan. I tried to shake him off, but he held firm.

"You ain't the only one grieving here, kid. Her kin had her laid out all nice and proper. Come on, let go, that's it. Give her her dignity..."

I moved mechanically, laying Zsaji back down, straightening her limbs, smoothing her robes.

I knelt at her side, staring blanking into space, remembering her. Every detail of every minute since the first time I saw her.

I was vaguely, distantly aware of confused conversation around me. Fear that Doom would strike us down again at any moment. Some concern over my behavior. Dismissed as grief and shock. Not even my fellow X Men knew about some of my messier assignments before Vazhin sent me to the Good Shepherd Clinic and thinktank. I am young, it was assumed that I had not seen death before, or at least had not lost someone I knew, was close to.

They spoke again, warily, of plans to confront Doom.

I stopped listening.

Zsaji was dead.

Nothing. Nothing mattered. None of it.

I would never again see her eyes light up, or run my hands through that spun silver hair. Never hear her sing out in the musical language her people spoke. Never hear her laugh at my stumbling attempts to repeat a word. Never again know the grace of her healing touch.

Zsaji was dead.

And part of me died with her.

The others went off on their mission. I stayed with the villagers, and carried Zsaji's body back to the village.

I sat quietly during the rituals and burial rites, and I helped dig her grave. And then I sat by her grave and waited.

For the heroes to return, or for Doom to destroy us all.

I didn't care which.

Zsaji was dead, leaving an emptiness that I couldn't bear.

Mystique came for me, in the end.

The villains had fled back to Earth, thanks to the Molecule Man's newfound mastery of his ability to manipulate matter.

Doom and the Beyonder had both vanished after a battle in which the Beyonder attempted to reclaim his powers.

Reed Richards had found the Beyonder's devices, the one used to transport us here, and had figured out how to get us home.

I followed Mystique obediently back to the others, and was transported.

And we were back on the grounds of the Good Shepherd Clinic, in Raven's Rock Vermont.

After a moment, Logan spoke up. "Well. Who wants a beer?"

Mystique laughed, and we started walking back to the house.

Cyclops hesitated at the path that led to the gate. "I better..."

Xavier looked at him with fatherly concern. "You're quite welcome to stay."

There was a rush of passing air overhead. Lockheed swooped down to perch on my shoulder, and Jeannie did a spin around our group with a joyful shout, "You're home!" Then she noticed Cyclops and Rogue, and hid behind Lehnsherr, shyly.

Cyclops looked at her, longingly, but said, "My brother Alex is with Sinister. I can't leave him there. We're all the family we've got. But...I'll think about your offer." He turned, and walked off quickly.

Logan and Mystique slipped quietly off as we reached the house. Jean flew ahead with the news of our return, and Gabrielle Haller-Lehnsherr ran to greet her husband with a kiss.

Doctor McCoy was asking excited questions, Sage interrupting with a few of her own.

I went on into the house. And Kitty charged down the staircase and leaped into my arms, kissing me with eager passion.

I froze, holding her, and returned the kiss, breaking away as soon as I could. Suddenly feeling heartsick.

Zsaji.

The happy welcoming babble of the girl I held in my arms was drowned out by my own heartbeat roaring in my ears.

Kitty.

I would have to tell her.

I hadn't meant to fall in love with another, so soon after she and I began a relationship.

"We were abducted by an alien. It's a long story," I said, a bit stiffly, and set her back on her feet.

"Well, duh!" she rolled her eyes. "You guys were gone for six months. It was kinda scary. ...you all right?"

"We were taken by an omnipotent entity calling itself the Beyonder...and forced to fight for its amusement..." The others trailed in as I explained to Kitty what had happened to us and where we had been for so long.

I didn't mention Zsaji.

I needed more time to grieve, more time to consider my words so I could let Kitty down easy.

Dinner was uncomfortable. I excused myself, left to report in to a safe house/message drop with a secure phone to report in to Colonel Vazhin, and call home.

Mama and Papa had been concerned...I'd never dropped out of communication for so long. Illyana was full of news. New kittens in the barn, a mare in foal and the foal promised to her...I interrupted to speak to Papa again at that, and he reminded me that Illyana would be old enough to ride once the horse was old enough to break to saddle. Mikhail and I had learned to ride at that age, and it hadn't hurt us to begin early.

I made a promise to myself to be there when Illyana learned to ride.

It hurts sometimes, to know she is my daughter, but thinks Papa is father to us both. It was the best compromise. There are kidnapping threats enough from the fact that she is listed as my sister in my personnel file. She has a good home, and I am free to serve Russia and the world itself with my gifts.

It struck me, like a slap, as I hung up the phone, that I had not thought of Illyana in a long time. There was the war...Zsaji...the fear of being stranded forever. Still...it seemed curious that I could be so forgetful of my golden haired child.

Guilt sent me straight to my sketchpad when I returned to the Clinic. Illyana dearly loved to receive mail, and I made sure I had enough cartoon-illustrated letters to send one a day for the next month.

I was still drawing when Kitty came to my room, and I sent her away with a tired smile and an excuse.

I didn't sleep well that night. Thoughts of Zsaji haunted me, and my room here seemed strange. The alien grown familiar and now the familiar grown alien. The simple lines of the Mission furnishings were oddly square, boxy, now that my eye had become accustomed to sinuous curves and odd proportion.

Eventually I got up, got another sketchpad, and started to draw again. Scenes of the battleworld. Zasji. The city. Zsaji laughing. Doom's base. The waterfall.

The sun was rising when I finally exhausted myself enough to sleep.

The next morning was fairly quiet. It seemed none of us had slept well.

There were, of course, innumerable meetings with various government agencies scheduled for later in the day. So many superheroes could not simply vanish off the face of the earth without disrupting the smooth flow of bureaucracy.

There were also tedious loyalty tests, to ensure none of us had revealed strategic information to an offworlder.

I sometimes envy the solitary costumed adventurer like the Hulk or Spider-man, who no doubt answers to no master save his own conscience.

Once SWORD was satisfied, we were free to return to the Clinic.

I went for a walk on the grounds, and found Kitty waiting for me in the shade garden where we had first spent time together. Jean was nearby, with Rogue and Mystique, playing with the Barbie dolls Kitty had given to her.

Showing off, a bit, how she could telekinetically manipulate them so the dolls moved jerkily, seemingly by themselves, like old stop-motion animation.

It was good fine-control practice for her telekinesis...and the little girl who had slept her life away wasn't quite ready to give up playing with dolls.

"Hey Peter. Can we talk?" Kitty looked up at me nervously, and patted the bench where she'd once posed for me.

I sat beside her, and couldn't meet her eyes.

"You've been quiet, since you got back. More than quiet. You're avoiding me. I know you had to fight for your lives out there, and well...if something happened...something you need to talk about..."

"It isn't what you think," I said softly, and let Kitty digest that.

"I was gone for a long time. And I met someone."

She took a sharp breath, and said, "oh."

"I don't want to hurt you, Kitty...but I loved her...and she died..." my voice broke.

"That isn't right!" Jean called out, her dolls falling discarded around her. "You love Kitty."

Mystique started to pick up Barbies. "Girls, I think these two need some privacy...let's go inside."

"No!" Jean stood up, her jaw set and lip pouting out a bit stubbornly. "I know it isn't nice to listen what people think without asking...but changing what they think is worse...and Zsaji was playing puppet-dolls with people, and I'M TELLING!" she stamped her foot, and the aura of the phoenix burst into ghostly flame around her.

Something white-hot seared through me, and I knew, and swallowed against the bile rising in my throat.

Kitty.

Zsaji had...

Bozhe moi.

What have I done?

Kitty was staring at me, hurt puzzlement fading to shock and the glimmer of understanding.

"Peter?" Mystique said, questioningly.

Kitty took a step toward me.

I turned, and fled. Got my Lexus out of the garage, and just drove, for hours.

It was late when I finally came home. Professor Xavier and Doctor McCoy were waiting up for me.

Xavier eyed the unopened bottle of vodka I was carrying with distaste, but said nothing about it. Simply, "Peter. I believe a full physical and psychic examination is advisable."

I followed them down to the labs, where my humiliation was made complete as lingering traces both chemical and empathic were isolated and identified.

I had mistaken addiction for attraction.

When it was done I retreated to my room, and took a long hot shower.

I still didn't feel clean. But there was still the vodka, and that would help.

When I left the bathroom, Kitty was waiting, on my bed.

She was wearing pink pajamas, and her knees were drawn up under her. I stopped, disconcerted.

"Oh. I...didn't think you would come to me tonight."

She bit her lip. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to. Then the delivery trucks started coming. The hell was that?"

I smiled, a little wryly, and came to stretch out on the bed beside her. "I... Natasha. When she was angry with me, Natasha required jewelry, flowers, and chocolate in exchange for her forgiveness. Then I remembered you are more of a tomboy geek...that you like gadgetry and science fiction." I took a breath. "I had a gold card...and I think a nervous breakdown..." I shrugged helplessly, and had to admit I wasn't entirely sure what I had bought in my panic.

She moved, laying down beside me and carefully settling herself in my arms, like she wasn't sure she would still fit.

"Hm. Well, I'm keeping the orchids, and the truffles. And the holoplaystation. Everything else is going back. But I don't...Peter, I don't want you to buy me presents when I'm mad at you, and I'm not. I'm not mad at you. God, I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault."

Shame twisted my stomach. "I should have known. I forgot you too easily, and thought she...I shouldn't have..."

"Peter. You were raped." She took a sharp breath, almost as if trying to draw the words back in, but it was too late. She'd said it out loud.

I sat up, turning to look at her, denial already written on my face. "It's not..." Calling what had happened to me---that---felt like it would dishonor anyone who had survived a brutal attack, abuse. It had been insidiously pleasant for me. Too pleasant.

God help me, I still longed for her touch.

Henry said it would probably be a few weeks before the last of the euphoric neurochemicals passed out of my system.

Kitty looked like she was trying not to cry, but she took a shuddering breath, and went on. "It...we don't know, we'll never know, what Zsaji's intention was. Maybe it was deliberate, and malicious. Maybe it was a side effect of using her power on an alien, and she didn't understand what was happening either. Maybe it was just...some kind of cultural misunderstanding. We'll never know."

She looked deeply into my eyes.

"All we know is that she did something to you that took away your ability to choose."

I let out a breath.

Kitty fidgeted. "If I was at school...went to a frat party and someone drugged my drink. I don't see this as different. You didn't cheat on me, Peter. It wasn't your fault."

There were tears in my own eyes now.

"It frightens me," I said quietly. "How completely and easily I succumbed. I loved her, Kitty. I believed that I was falling in love with her, and let her take your place in my heart. I didn't question it. If I can't trust my own mind...what do I have?"

"You have me," and she leaned in and kissed me.

We sat there, in the middle of my bed, just holding each other for a long time.

I kissed her forehead and sighed. "You're a wonderful woman, and I don't deserve to have you in my life."

"Rule number one: no more self-pity," she said firmly. "Remember what I said about not your fault? You're a great guy, and I don't deserve you either. We'll get through this, Peter. It's just going to take some time."

I kissed her again, and she cuddled against my chest as we lay back.

"We don't have to, or anything, but I want to stay tonight. I was so worried about you guys while you were gone," she added. "I'm so glad you're all right. It wasn't exactly a picnic around here, with Prof Haller trying not to fall apart, and Jeannie, and Nick Fury? Totally spazzed. It was a sight to see..."

I wasn't all right. But as I held Kitty, and listened to her talk, I knew I would be.

The End

Author's Note:

Okay. Secret Wars, by Jim Shooter, was obviously the inspiration for this. It was one of the major storyarcs I heard about as I got into the X Men fandom, mainly because of my fondness for the Kitty/Piotr ship. I learned by fannish osmosis that this was the story arc where Peter breaks up with Kitty over an alien girl, because he's either a jerk, or was under mind control (Watsonian) or by editorial decision (Doylist).

As I only read comics in Trade Paperback, I happened first upon the Essential X Men book which entirely skips the plot. It leaps from the Beyonder's device in Central Park, to Peter and Kitty having their talk on the bluff, to Wolverine taking Peter out to get him drunk and beat him up, aiming him at Juggernaut when the opportunity presents itself. And almost immediately, Peter begins to regret his actions, and wonder if Kitty will ever forgive him.

Imagine my disgust and horror when I finally picked up the Secret Wars trade, and discovered, that it wasn't the Piotr-Fan rationalization, or the Outside Observer revelation (something the reader sees that the characters aren't aware of) that I assumed I would find. Wolverine and Nightcrawler (who I really thought better of) have an actual discussion over the fact that Peter is acting irrationally, and is apparently somehow being influenced by Zasji. That repellent little hairball Logan also makes a comment that Peter should know better.

Let me spell this out. Logan knew a nineteen year old boy was acting abnormally, and did nothing to help him, blamed him for the results, and decided to punish him.

Logan isn't my favorite X Men, by any means, but this was the first time I utterly despised him. I've found a more honorable man in that character, written by other authors, and I prefer to see that characterization.

It's something that's never been dealt with in canon, and something I doubt ever will be. I needed to find some way to reconcile the events as written and as I perceive them...and I so I rewrote it into this alternate universe, and this fic.

Whew. Back to the happy Kiotr fluff.


	5. Arcade

ARCADE BY MADRIPOOR ROSE

Disclaimer: Marvel's Universe, I just play here. No copyright infringement intended.

XxXxXxXxXxX

I hadn't had a mall crawl like that since I got outfitted to be sent off to Xavier's back when I was thirteen. Hailing a cab in front of Water Tower Place I piled in, and, trying to get my bags settled on the seat beside me without crushing anything expensive, I told the driver to take me to the Midwestern campus.

"I thought maybe dinner first," the voice and accent were familiar, and I kicked myself for not paying attention. Slipping there, Pryde. I may be an Ex-X-Man for now, but I couldn't count on the bad guys knowing it. If I had to be caught off guard, though, luckily this was one of the good guys. More or less.

I met laughing blue eyes in the rearview mirror, and glanced at the hack license. Then groaned.

"Konstantine Leonidivich Kentov?" Peter Rasputin winked at me. "They let you make bad puns in the KGB?"

"Federal Security Bureau, if you please. There are surprisingly few comic book fangeeks in international espionage, Kit."

"Kon-El Kent. Superboy, Superman, Man of Steel. God. You and Natasha used to run around with Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale false ids, didn't you?"

"Moose and Squirrel is no problem. Vith Volverine and Firefox, is wery big problem," his accent was suddenly thicker than a dollop of sour cream garnishing borscht and I started laughing in spite of myself.

Truth is...I missed Peter. I missed everyone.

Not that I regret dropping off the team to have a normal life...whatever normal is. But still. I've fought giant robots, been to alien planets, met with world leaders...and the girls in my dorm think getting drunk at a dance club is a wild night, y'know?

And then there's the fact that the Russian liaison and I have a little entente cordiale of our own.

This is also how I am not like any of the girls I'm going to college with. They thought dating a football player is cool. I? have a hot Russian spy mutant boyfriend. Yeah. They hate me. Like I wanted Peter to walk around the dorm in boxer shorts and a shoulder holster the last time he slept over. It's not my fault his pants got a little embedded inside a wall.

Okay.

So it was my fault, but it wasn't on purpose.

But something about the fact that he'd done a neat grab with an established cover identity, even one this deeply lame, told me he wasn't here for fun and games.

"Pete, this isn't a good time. I was indulging in a little retail therapy, taking a break, but I've got two papers due. So while I'd love to spend a little time with my Siberian Tiger..."

"Katya, I need your help. I can't go to the professors, or to Alexei...and Natasha is nowhere I can contact her."

Whoo boy. Something he couldn't take to the bosses? And he'd been trying to contact Nasty Natasha? Yup. I shoulda spent the rest of the afternoon in Marshall Fields. "What's wrong?"

"Arcade. They took Illyana. They have my daughter."

A little backstory here. While the Soviet Union was collapsing and reorganizing, the KGB Mutant Directorate found a big fifteen year old Siberian farmboy who could turn to living steel. Piotr Rasputin. They gave him to the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, to train.

Yeah. That Rasputin. That Romanoff.

As Peter's boss is fond of saying, In Russia, Fate is not without a sense of irony.

The Black Widow is kind of a legend in the covert ops community. And if you've ever read a Tom Clancy novel or seen a James Bond movie, you know exactly what that means. She's the most dangerous woman in Europe.

She was also his lover.

They were partners in both senses of the word for a couple of years, then she got pregnant. Had the baby, and gave it to Peter's parents to raise. Everyone thinks Illyana is his little sister. They'd both made enemies...and there's some prophecy about a Romanoff/Rasputin child, they were afraid that would draw out the Russian version of those fundamentalist nutjobs who kidnapped Warren Worthington and cut off his wings a few years back.

And that's when it all went to hell. Peter is still a sweet farmboy from the Transbaikal at heart, even if he knows fifty-seven ways to kill people with a paperclip. He wanted to retire in a few years, get married, reclaim their daughter and settle down on a nice dasha with a white picket fence to keep polar bears out of the garden.

Natasha...

There's a reason her codename is Black Widow.

Colonel Vazhin pulled Peter from fieldwork and made him his personal assistant. Deskwork to keep him from getting himself killed while his broken heart healed, then assigned him to be FSB liaison to the Raven's Rock thinktank.

We weren't the X Men yet. That came after Larry Trask decided giant mutant killing robots were a good investment for the billions he made with Minisoft and the Doorways operating system.

This was before Professor Lehnsherr finished the Cerebral Amplifier, and the mutant census and recruitment drive that followed.

So it was pretty much the Professors: Xavier, Lehnsherr, and Haller. Logan and Mystique, who are older than dirt and starring in their own bad soap opera of a relationship. Though I did have a major crush on Logan when I was a snot-nose brat. Sage, who creeps everybody out, and Doug Ramsey. Who I love like a brother, but lord, what a dweeb. And Doctor McCoy, busy with his coma patient Jean Grey.

And Peter and me.

I was eighteen. He was twenty-three.

They kept putting us in spandex and sending us into the hologym for sparring practice.

What did they think was gonna happen?

So the long distance relationship sucks, but I was already on academic probation when we met. Peter supported my decision to drop active membership to concentrate on my studies. He even looks after Lockheed for me, even though my baby alien dragon drives him crazy by eating all of his charcoal pencils, no matter where he hides them. When he has time to sketch, he never has any supplies.

Peter comes out to Chicago when he can, and I get called back to Vermont to help out with encrypted, classified but nonessential data recovery. Professor Lehnsherr's been having magnetic field accidents suspiciously often, the big yenta.

We were going to take Illyana to Disney Land for Spring Break. Peter was ready for me to meet his daughter, that's why I know about her. And now she's being held hostage to be used against him. Peter's worst fear.

Illyana's only seven years old.

"How can I help?"

He met my eyes in the rear view mirror again. "You know Arcade. He has a twisted sense of honor."

Yup. Reginald Cade was a gamer. Started out with video games, roleplaying games, board games. Ran a nationwide chain of Arcades. Not your typical mall storefront full of coin operated first person shooters or driving and flight simulators, pinball games.

Arcade was a combination of live action roleplaying, amusement park technology, and paintball. They were a very popular fad.

Five hundred and seventeen people died when Arcade switched to live ammo.

Reginald Cade turned out to be an alias, Murderworld Inc. the starting point of an endless maze of dummy corporations, holding companies, and blind trusts.

They never caught Arcade.

And he continued to play games with lives, on a more intimate scale.

But he did have a twisted sense of honor. No cheating in his games, on either side. If Peter won, Illyana would be returned to him unharmed.

If Peter lost, or was caught cheating, Illyana would die.

"What are the rules?"

"You and I must rescue her together. No outside help, no gadgets, only powers. There is a warehouse here in Chicago. We must be there at six tomorrow morning. The game starts then, no sooner."

"Okay."

I knew Peter felt guilty for dragging me away from my papers; we went to Dominic's for dinner. Peter is more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Or smoked lobster and caviar. Despite my attempts to educated his palate with the finer nuances of flavor in veggie deep dish pizzas.

After we ate, we headed back to Claremont Hall. Ashley was leaving as we came in. She let out a startled gasp, froze, then avoided our eyes and edged past us. I like her, but Ashley had led a very sheltered life in a very small town with very conservative parents. We were friends before she found out I was a mutant not so secret agent with a boyfriend on loan from the Rodina. If she can ever get past the Mutie Commie labels, maybe we'd be friends again someday.

A few other people said hi in the halls as we passed on the way to my room.

"I should have known better than to carry your Borders bag," Peter switched hands, flexing his fingers. "How many books did you buy?"

"The new Elizabeth Peters, the new Lois McMaster Bujold, and the new Terry Pratchett. A couple of magazines. And a paperback. You can lift a car."

"Which you always point out when you want me to carry something for you," he complained, teasing, and we walked in.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and we dropped my bags on the unoccupied bed.

I knew he was trying not to think about it. It was my job to keep him distracted. Worrying himself into a frazzle wouldn't help.

I put the bag from Borders on my desk, then tackled my new clothes. Peter flopped on my bed to watch. "How's Jeannie doing?" Cream, hot pink, and black marbled spaghetti-strap tank. Cream clamdiggers. Purple cardigan.

Jean was brought in by Doctor McCoy the day Peter joined us. A telepath and telekinetic who had seen a little friend killed by a hit and run drunk driver when she was eight...Jean Grey's mind shut down from the death-shock. She woke up later that day, during the Sentinel attack.

"Her control is improving, as for the rest...Professor Xavier is trying to help her, but she may always be a little girl in a woman's body."

"She still got a crush on Bones?" Hank hates the nickname, but it's his own fault for being a Doctor McCoy and for yelling 'I'm a doctor, not a superhero' a lot.

Peter chuckled. "And the good Doctor McCoy is oblivious. She's allowed to fly now, Lockheed has been playing tag with her."

"Aw. Somebody better be taking photos for me."

"Professor Haller has," Peter's eyebrow rose as I put away my new lingerie, holding up a ridiculously expensive scrap of lace to model it.

"Do you like black lace?" I'd never worn anything like this for him. Bought it on a whim during my shopaholic attack. I'd been looking at fashion magazines in the bookstore and seeing Emma Frost and Betsy Braddock on every cover had the usual demoralizing effect for a naturally skinny chick like me. Makes you feel like there's something wrong with you.

The lack of a couple of pounds of silicone gel, for example.

Now I have very good self esteem, and I know Peter's a leg man with a taste for dancer's builds. Social conditioning. Or there's an evil mind controlling mutant running Hollywood and the fashion industry who gets kicks from making the average woman feel ugly.

Maybe we should be looking into that.

"I liked what you were wearing the first time I saw you," Peter teased me with a toothy grin. "The blue wig."

Nobody was ever gonna let me forget that. I walked in on a meeting with an urgent message for Professor Xavier and didn't bother to go through the door. I was also having trouble phasing clothing through walls.

I was kind of a ditz when I was seventeen.

The Clinique stuff went on top of the dresser, three new lipsticks, eyeshadow, and a tube of Elixir showergel. I turned back to face Peter, who was sitting up and taking his boots off, so I sat on his lap and gave him a proper kiss hello. He stretched out, pulling me down with him, and I got his shirt open, dropping kisses on newly revealed sculpted muscular flesh with each button undone.

A sigh earthquaked under me, and he reluctantly muttered, "you could get a few hours of work on your paper."

"Eh," I shrugged. I wanted to try this normal life thing, but I have trouble taking school seriously. Price of being a genius, I guess. I already know everything and jumping through hoops to prove I know it is annoying. But once I have that magic piece of paper to say I'm an expert in electrical engineering and computer science for me, I'll never have to go through proving it again. "You're right. You're always right. You know how much I hate it that you're always right?" I pushed myself up and rolled off of him, getting up.

"Mind if I borrow one of your new books?"

"Help yourself." I handed the bag over as I sat down at my desk and fired up the computer.

Half a hour later I glanced over and could see he was still on page five. "Peter. We'll get her back."

I actually did get one paper done and made serious headway on the second, before it was time to hit the sack. We messed around a little, and Peter fell asleep. He'd been trained to sleep when he needed to, to sleep through anything, and we'd done a few things guys generally find relaxing anyway. I couldn't get to sleep right away.

I'm a gearhead. I do research and gadgetry. I'm not a natural fighter. The training I've done with Logan and Peter...I can handle myself. But Illyana's life was on the line, and it scared me. I was also kind of uncomfortable. He's always been a cuddler, but even though he's doing that scary guy thing, where you pack up all the anger and anxiety and save it for later...it's showing in his sleep. He's clutching me for dear life, and flesh and blood, Peter weighs two-fifty and he's strong as an ox. I let him squish me for a while, then phased out from under him and went to curl up on the other bed.

I got enough sleep, barely. We got up, and dressed. Normal work-out clothes, easy to move in. Peter keeps a few things here. Uniforms are for press conferences and photo ops, and when we might be filmed by news crews in action. I think they're kind of hokey myself, but Professor Lehnsherr has this whole routine about the symbolism and history of costumed superheroes and the awe that they inspire, with his personal experience of seeing Captain America liberating Auschwitz when he was a boy, and it's just easier to put on the damn spandex.

We picked up coffee and donuts on the way, and I phased us into the warehouse promptly at six.

To be faced with a glass block wall, lit inside with blue light. Great. I phased, and let myself float up to get a bird's eye view. Wincing as way too many bullets went through me from an automatic machine gun turret in the ceiling. Great. It was on tracks, could pivot, so it could fire at any part of the maze.

"Peter! Armor up," I yelled, and dove for the turret. I couldn't stop to look back and make sure Peter hadn't been hit. I went through the mechanism, shorting it out as I passed. The echoing thunder of the guns faded, and I took a quick look around for other obvious dangers.

I could see Illyana at the center of the maze, a small blonde girl in a square of glass block walls. She wasn't crying, thank heavens. In fact, she seemed to be having a tea party with animatronic stuffed animals.

As I hovered, the glass block walls shifted around, sliding, changing the pattern so I couldn't map out a direct route to the center. I could swoop over there and go get her, but the rules said we had to rescue her together. So I dropped back to the entrance of the maze beside Peter.

"You know how they say money is the root of all evil? Is that why so many millionaires are total psycho loons?" I quipped to him to cover that moment when you check each other for bullet wounds. Or, like, dents, since Peter was in his steel form. No injuries.

He flashed me a quick grim smile and we started working our way through the maze. It was the usual thing. Spiderbots that shot lasers. A trap door that dropped into a pit of rabid voles. Electrified floor tiles. Flamethrowers. Spinning blades.

It was a lot like the hologym, only lethal.

More robots. Wind-up suits of armor wielding battleaxes. Peter waded into them with a sound like a recycling bin full of soda cans being tipped over. I phased and started disabling them as fast as I could.

The edge of a battleaxe struck sparks on Peter's shoulder and he swore sharply in Russian.

"Peter!" I yelped, as he tore a handful of smoking wires out through the robotic knight's helm and it clattered to the floor at his feet. He rolled his shoulder, grimacing.

"I'm all right. I felt that one."

That was an understatement. If he'd been flesh and bone instead of organic steel, his arm would have come off. I was just glad the blade was ordinary steel, not adamantium.

The last obstacle was a giant bowling ball, like someone had seen the Indiana Jones movies one too many times. And we were there. I took Peter's hand and phased us into the room I'd seen Illyana in. I was a little afraid the teddy bears would attack, or that this Illyana was an android decoy, but she just put down her little violet -painted teacup and ran up to Peter, who scooped her up into his arms.

She jabbered at him in Russian, between giggles, and he answered her, kissing her cheek, a tear of relief trailing from the corner of his eye.

"She's fine," he told me, and grinned. "She thinks this is Disney Land."

The glass block walls slid and swung aside, parting, making a hallway to the door and a disembodied electronically altered voice announced, "Game Over. Colossus And Shadowcat: Winners."

The three of us walked out together, Piotr introducing me to his little sister, translating for her. We took Illyana for a hamburger, and then over to the Navy Pier, and I took Illyana on the merry go round while Peter called his parents to tell them she was safe, and the professors to explain where he'd disappeared to.

He was waiting for us when the merry go round stopped and I lifted Illyana down from her mermaid-tailed sea horse. I took her little hand and led Illyana over to him, being careful to speak cheerfully. Even if she didn't understand English, she was bright enough to pick up on the tone of voice.

"So. Did you get grounded for going AWOL?"

He nodded. "Logan's coming for us in the Blackbird. Professor Xavier wants to read Illyana for any clues Arcade might have left during her abduction."

"Cool. I'm going with. I can work on my paper in Vermont as well as here. And if we're going after Arcade, I want in," I added grimly.

We pootled around Chicago for a few hours. Hit the Museum of Science and Industry, because you really can't miss Colleen Moore's Fairy Castle. She was a silent film star who spent a fortune building a ridiculously elaborate dollhouse. Sterling silver furniture, floors inlaid with semi-precious stones, an ermine polar bear rug with mouse teeth, stained glass, carved ivory, tiny tapestries and working electric lights.

Illyana was as enchanted with it as I was at that age, and Peter appreciated the skill of the artisans who'd built it.

And then it was time to go to the airport. Logan was waiting with the Blackbird on the charter and private runway. He watched Peter belting Illyana into her seat and told him, "Cute kid," before going through the preflight checklist and taking off. Laconic, even for Logan, and I could tell he was hurt that Peter hadn't come to him with his problem. There was a big fight and he missed it.

Illyana was lulled to sleep by the roar of the jet engines, and Peter and I spent the flight pleasantly enough, talking and smooching a little while she napped.

I love the house in Raven's Rock Vermont. Topside is a Frank Lloyd Wright school mansion. Downstairs is the bunker. The house was built during the Cold War as a kind of spare White House, and we've got labs, libraries, everything you need to restart civilization after world war three. A perfect set-up for a mutant clinic and thinktank. The grounds are extensive, everything from formal gardens to wilderness backing right up into the mountains.

I grew up here, since my power to phase through solid objects manifested when I was thirteen, a stress reaction to my parents getting a divorce.

It's my home, and this is my family.

Jeannie and Lockheed came soaring down to meet us as we walked to the house from the landing pad. The one thing I envy Jean Grey...her telekinesis allows her to really fly. My phased airwalking is more like a lunar hop. I lifted my arm for Lockheed to land and perch, and leaned over for a hello kiss on the muzzle.

"Careful! Fishbreath!" Jeannie warned me, giggling. "We were up in the hills by the stream, and Lockheed caught a trout and ate it all up, scales and bones and guts and all. It was gross!" She sounded very impressed, and Lockheed gave a self-satisfied burp. Wearing jeans and a pink hoodie, her red hair up in pigtails, Jeannie almost looked like the little girl she'd always be, trapped in a grownup body.

Illyana had been watching both the hawk-sized dragon and the flying lady with wide eyes.

I glanced at Peter for permission, then crouched down and let Illyana pet Lockheed. She exclaimed at the warm pebbled texture of the lilac scales.

"Hello. Are you a new patient?" Jeannie asked.

Illyana didn't look up and Peter explained, "this is my little sister Illyana. She's visiting, and she only speaks Russian, Jean. She doesn't understand you." Then he switched, translating for Illyana. She looked up, and chirped politely to Jean in Russian, but most of her attention was on Lockheed, who was eating it up, cooing happily as the little girl gently scratched the base of his wings.

One of the french doors opened on the flagstone terrace, and Professor Gabrielle Haller came out and smiled in greeting. "Jean, dear. It's time for your history lesson. Peter, Kitty, Charles wants to see Illyana in the infirmary."

Lockheed blew a heart-shaped smoke ring, making Illyana clap her hands in delight, and took off, probably to go fish for more trout, greedy thing. The four of us went inside. Professor Haller led Jean off for her lessons, and we headed downstairs.

We ran into Sage coming out of one of the other labs. She was wearing her usual blue hooded cloak and red catseye sunglasses. I've never seen her wear anything else.

"Ah. This must be Miss Illyana," Sage reached down and stroked Illyana's golden hair, patting a chubby cheek. "Adorable child."

Peter gave her a spooked look and took Illyana into the infirmary. I stayed in the hall and watched Sage delicately suck her fingertips.

"You know, that's not actually any less disturbing than when you used to lick people," I told her.

"Give the proud papa my congratulations. She's a teleporter, or will be."

I held Sage's gaze through the red glass. "She's his sister."

An eyebrow quirked. "I hadn't realized the Ust Ordynski was quite that...rural."

Sage can read DNA by tasting it, and she only needs a minute trace of shed skin cells to do so. Since she's sampled Peter she obviously noted Illyana's paternity as well as decoding her latent mutation.

I kept up the glare. "Officially she's his sister. She doesn't know. Sage, please."

She looked amused. "We all have our secrets, Kitty-Kat. I only tell the ones that are mine to tell," she laughed and headed for the elevator.

In a world full of very strange things, Sage still totally creeps me out.

I shuddered and went into the infirmary. Henry had Illyana up on one of the diagnostic beds. Henry's a sweet guy, and a great doctor. Even through the language barrier his bedside manner was putting Illyana at ease, so he could examine her without scaring her. Kids that age usually associate doctors with shots and scream their heads off. Professor Xavier was standing with them, speaking quietly to Peter.

Professor Lehnsherr was leaning against the bookcase where Henry keeps all his old Notre Dame football memorabilia. I went to wait next to him.

"Skipping classes again, Katherine?"

I shrugged. "I had to rescue Illyana from arcade. I'm sure I can get a note. 'Please excuse Kitty's absence due to an unscheduled psychopathic mass murderer."

He chuckled at that, but something in his eyes hardened as he watched Professor Xavier as he sat down and began to meditate, clearing his mind before entering Illyana's.

"You might be getting that note if you're choosing to rejoin us on a full time basis. Signed by the President."

"We're going after Arcade?"

Lehnsherr pulled a pair of steel finger-juggling spheres out of his pocket and absently began manipulating them in his hand.

"I expect so. This lunatic, Arcade, has been wreaking havoc for long enough. Pity the fool who seeks trouble, for he shall surely find it." There was a cold rage in his voice, something I'd never heard from him before, and it was comforting and frightening at the same time. "He came after one of us, one of our children. This is war."

Erik Lehnsherr put his hands back in his pockets. The metal spheres continued to orbit each other, floating, making a silvery scraping sound of metal rubbing against metal that reminded me of sharpening knives.

The End


End file.
